


Superman, Book One.

by falconlord5



Series: The Age of Marvels [1]
Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Femdom, Gen, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-07 23:38:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14092230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falconlord5/pseuds/falconlord5
Summary: Up in the sky, look! It's a bird! It's a plane! It's Superman!The last son of a dying world comes to Earth to usher in a new generation of heroes! Watch Clark Kent, mild mannered reporter and secretly Superman match wits with the eternally slippery Lex Luthor, battle foes like the Ultra-Humanite, and woo Lois Lane!





	1. Action Comics #1

Action Comics #1

_Once more, you wonder the lifeless surface of the moon. You seek Uatu the Watcher, who has been your guide these many months into the realm of the fantastic. The Age of Marvels, he called it, heralded by the arrival of the Kryptonian. You have met the Uncanny X-Men, champions of the oppressed. The Amazing Spider-Man, the everyday teenager learning to take responsibility for his actions. The Fantastic Four, a family of misfits bound together in the pursuit of science. The Batman, the last hope of a fallen city. The Wonder Woman, princess of the Amazons, here to lead her people into a new dawn._

_But you have yet to meet the Kryptonian, allegedly Earth’s Greatest Hero. You wonder when that will change._

“Greetings, mortal!” _Uatu the Watcher says. He is a strange looking figure. Bald, with an oversized head, he wears a blue high-necked cape over a white toga clasped at the shoulder. He looks down upon you with blank white eyes._

“The Age of Marvels has begun!” _Uatu continued._ “The Heroes have awoken! The Thunderer has been cast out! Evil beyond mortal comprehension gathers at the far edges of the galaxy! The Red Bird of Fire races to meet it! A race of mortals unlike the world has ever seen has been born! The Guardians paragon has fallen! Fear spreads unchecked! The Wizard seeks a new champion, mightiest among mortals! The Four have come together! That which was defeated returns with a new vengeance! Heavy crowns sit on the heads of fell and terrible kings! All this and more! But above all…”

_“The Kryptonian has arrived,” you finish for the giant._

“Indeed mortal!” _Uatu agrees. He seems amused by your interruption._ “The Kryptonian has arrived!”

_“You keep talking about him,” you say, “but we’ve never actually seen him. When do we get to his story?”_

“Now!” _Uatu answers._

_“Now?” You splutter in surprise._

“Now!” _Uatu confirms._ “Now is the time to observe The Man of Steel! The Man of Tomorrow! The Last Son of Krypton! The Superman!”

***

_In the far reaches of the galaxy, on the planet Krypton…_

“You have to listen to me!” Jor-El, Krypton’s leading scientist begged the Science Council of Krypton. Jor-El was a big barrel-shaped man, kept only in shape by prodding from his wife. His skin was the same brown as his eyes. His hair was black. Jor-El wore a red tabard over a black tunic and black slacks. Black boots adorned his feet. On his brow was a golden circlet.

“We don’t have to do any such thing,” one of the council members said, looking down her nose at Jor-El. She wore a green and black version of Jor-El’s costume. She was pale skinned, with blue eyes and kinky blond hair. “The last time we listened to you, we let that maniac Zod loose!”

“He got rid of Brainiac, didn’t he?” Jor-El shot back.

“After destroying half of Argos!” the councillor snapped. “And we still lost Kandor!”

“I’m sorry that defeating an evil alien intelligence wasn’t casualty-free,” Jor-El responded. The councillor shook her head. Jor-El was struck by how much the councillor resembled his sister in-law Alura. Their eyes even had the same gentle slant. Unlike Lara, however, the councillor couldn’t see reason.

“That’s your problem, Jor-El,” she said. “You can’t admit when you’re wrong.”

“I can too,” Jor-El said. “The problem is that I’m not wrong. Either about Zod or now.”

“No?” the councillor asked. “And how did you come to that well-thought out conclusion?”

“Well let’s see,” Jor-El said. “According to the militaries predictions, if we had gone with the Council’s plan, Brainiac would have destroyed all of Krypton. After sucking all of our data away. So I think the fact that we only lost half of Argos and Kandor is a pretty good outcome, don’t you?”

“The public disagrees,” the councillor pointed out.

“Much as I respect the public’s wisdom,” Jor-El said carefully, “and as much as I feel their pain, they’re wrong. In this instance.”

The assembled councillors reacted with shock and outrage. Furious mutterings erupted, calling Jor-El a tyrant and a usurper.

Jor-El sighed bitterly and looked around the room. It was completely circular. The north wall was transparent, showing off Krypton’s natural beauty and bio-tech architecture. On the floor was a shifting pattern displaying scenes from Krypton’s mythology. Along the south wall was a semi-circular table. Sitting behind that table were the councillors. In front of it, desperately trying to convince the poll-obsessed politicians to save their own hides, was Jor-El.

Kryptonian government was, allegedly, democratic, scientific and rational. In reality, public opinion held disproportionate sway over the political process. The ‘wisdom of the people’ was held sacred above all else, even when the people were wrong or misinformed. The politicians themselves did nothing to shape or mold the public’s opinion. They just did whatever the polls told them too.

Jor-El smiled bitterly. His friend, rival, and lover Ur-Zod had despaired of the Kryptonian political system and tried to overthrow it, to put himself in charge. Jor-El had nipped that coup in the bud by pointing out just how ill-suited Zod was for government. But Jor-El had to admit he felt the same temptation from time to time.

“And I suppose you think the public is wrong about your predictions, too?” the councillor who had been interrogating Jor-El throughout the meeting demanded.

“Yes,” Jor-El said bluntly.

“The public is never wrong,” another councillor, with darker skin than Jor-El and straight white hair claimed. “The collective nature…”

“Helps prevent bad ideas and misinformation via a memetic network and cross-pollinization,” Jor-El interrupted. “I agree. But the system isn’t perfect. The public can be lied to. Or they may not want to face up to reality. Which is okay if we the leadership are willing to take steps to correct the public when they’re wrong.”

“The Science Council does not lead,” the councillor countered sharply. “We follow the wisdom of the people. If you can’t respect that Jor-El, then its time the Council looked at whether or not you really should be Chief Geologist.”

“Despite my popularity in the poles, you mean?” Jor-El asked with a sly grin. The councillors all shot him a dirty look.

“We’re finished here,” the chief councillor said. “We will discuss your treasonous statements and delusions next time.” The councillors left. Jor-El sighed.

Maybe he should have taken the Green Lanterns up on their offer after all…

***

Jor-El walked in through the circular membrane that served as the front door to his house, enjoying the slightly slimy sensation. Dryers hidden in the wall turned on, taking care of the slime. Jor-El kicked off his boots, enjoying the sensation of the living carpet on his toes. He stuffed the boots in the front closet, hung up his circlet and tabard, and went into the living room.

Sitting around the table was Lara Lor-Van, his wife, his brother Zor-El and his sister-in-law Alura In-Ze. Lara got up from the couch and ran towards her husband, causing the table to skitter out of the way.

Lara and Jor-El hugged each tightly. Lara was shorter than Jor-El, allowing him to rest his head on hers and breathe her perfume. She was brunette with a pale freckled face and a pert nose. Her eyes were a brilliant glowing blue. Lara wore the same black bodysuit as her husband, accentuating her curves. Jor-El moved his hands downward to cup Lara’s cheeks.

“Hey! No groping each other in public!” Alura In-ze said from the couch. Chief Judge Alura In-ze of Krypton was yellow-haired, blue-eyed and fair skinned. She was tall and gangly, a born runner. Her daughter Kara had inherited her build and colouring. She wore a dark grey bodysuit as opposed to black like the rest of the family. While Jor-El knew that the dark grey bodysuit was part of the military and law enforcement uniform, he couldn’t help but suspect that Alura was wearing it deliberately in this case. After all, the In-ze family was not part of the Kryptonian upper crust.

“Thank you, but I will grope my husband wherever I damn well please,” Lara said, matching action to words by squeezing her husband’s butt.

“But the rest of us don’t want to see it,” Zor-El said, stretching his arms out on the couch. Zor-El was built very much like his brother, being a large barrel-chested man, though he was a little shorter than Jor-El. He was as dark as his brother, with the same brown eyes. “That’s the point, sis.”

“Too bad,” Lara shot back. “This is my house, and I will grope my husband where I like in it!”

“Maybe we shouldn’t scar the family so much, Lara,” Jor-El said, gently breaking off from his wife. “We can always have fun later.”

“If there is a later,” Alura muttered darkly.

“Hey now,” Zor-El said. He put his arms around his wife. “Don’t talk like that, honey. We’ll be okay, really. We will.”

“The projections are getting worse,” Alura said. “According to the latest geological surveys, we have two months at best. There’s no way we will be evacuate all of Krypton in time.”

“I know,” Jor-El said. “I know. We have to start preparations tonight.”

“I was afraid you would say that,” Zor-El sighed. “I take it the Council didn’t listen.”

“All they care about is their electoral chances,” Jor-El said bitterly. “It doesn’t matter that Brainiac’s initial attack destabilized the planet or that Zod stopped him destroying us outright. All that matters is the opinion polls. But we are out of time. And we need to get moving.”

“I’ll contact Astra,” Alura said, getting up off the couch.

“Good,” Jor-El said. “Lara and I will go prep Kal-El’s pod. Once he’s launched, we will need to follow right after him.”

“Right,” Zor-El said as he too got off the couch. “I’ll go grab our gear and make the preparations for our pods.”

***

Vice-Admiral Astra In-ze of the 1st Reconnaisance Fleet stood in front of her assembled officers in the briefing room. She wore a light grey tabard over a darker grey bodysuit, the uniform of the Kryptonian military. Like her twin sister Alura, she was tall and gangly, with blonde hair and blue eyes.

“I have bad news,” she said. “The Science Council has rejected Jor-El’s findings once again. Admiral Alura has given us orders. We are to evacuate to the Phantom Zone to await a signal from Jor-El on Earth in three months’ time. Most of Krypton will not be saved.”

Alura gazed out on her officers, tears in her eyes. Astra had been a part of this fleet for decades, from before the Zod Coup through to the Brainiac Attack. They were her family, and she was asking for them to give up everything they ever knew for the sake of one rogue scientist. She could only hope it was worth it in the end.

Her niece, Kara Zor-El suddenly went rigid. Her hand went to her earpiece, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

“Admiral,” she said. “We’re under attack! Kryptonian forces, heavily armed. Security doesn’t recognize their uniforms and their not taking prisoners!”

Astra was stunned for a second, but only for a second. “Sound the evacuation,” she ordered. “Get everyone to their pods. Now!”

The officers surged out of the briefing room, bellowing orders. Astra could only hope it wasn’t too late.

***

Astra peeled out of the briefing room only to be hit with a hail of blaster fire. She dropped to the floor, beside one of her aids.

“C’mon Jon,” she said. “Let’s get out of here.” She tugged on Jon’s tabard only for his blasted head to roll off towards her. Astra swallowed her bile and her tears and inched forward. She didn’t get very far before she met a pair of black boots. Shots rang out above her.

“Come on, Admiral!” Kara said, roughly hauling her aunt to her feet. “We need to leave, now!”

“Thanks for the save, Lieutenant,” Astra said. She picked up a long-arm from one of the dead bodies and covered her niece’s back.

“You’re welcome,” Kara said, firing at their attackers. “Do you have any idea who these guys are?”

“Not a clue,” Astra said. “What about you?”

“Me either,” Kara said. “I got a look at their uniforms, though. White tabards on white bodysuits.”

Astra searched her memory. “Doesn’t ring any bells for me,” she said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Kara said. “They’re killing everybody. They’re even shooting down pods.”

Astra swallowed. “We need to get out of here,” she said.

“No arguments there, Admiral,” Kara said. “Lead the way!”

***

Back on Krypton, Zor-El was busy packing when he heard an explosion. Drawing his pistol, he peered out towards the door. There were several Kryptonians, dressed all in white.

“Who the hell are you?” he demanded. They shot him, the blasters tearing him to pieces.

“ _Zor!_ ” Alura screamed. She drew her own pistol and killed several of the attackers but she knew it was only a matter of time before they got her.

***

Lara and Jor-El were busy in their private spaceport when Lara’s communicator beeped to life.

“Lara Zor-El speaking,” she said.

“Lara!” Alura shouted. “We’re under attack! I don’t know by who or what. They killed Zor. I can’t get to you. You need to launch now! Save yourselves!”

“Alura!” Lara shouted, but the communicator was already shut down.

“Damn it,” Jor-El said. He looked around the spaceport. Neither his nor Lara’s pods were ready. Only Kal-El’s was. He started the launch sequence.

“What are you doing?” Lara demanded.

“It’s our only hope,” Jor-El said. “I’ve preprogrammed the pod for Ma’aleca’andra. I have some friends there, they will take him in. Hopefully, some of Astra’s people got away.”

“Hopefully,” Lara said. “Damn it, Jor! What the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know,” Jor-El said. “I don’t know. There, the launch sequence is set. We need to get out of here before the pod launches.”

“And get revenge,” Lara said.

“Yes,” Jor-El said, thinking of his cousin. Of Alura, the commoner who had fought her way to the top. Of Astra and Kara, who had dreamed of bright new worlds to explore. And of his son Kal-El, who would now grow up without a father. A mother. A home. “Revenge.”

***

Kara and Astra made their way to the admiral’s pod. The sights they had seen had been sickening. The attackers, whoever they were, had blasted apart everyone and everything in their zeal. Kara had seen the corpses of friends blasted apart. Astra had seen her soldiers slaughtered, even as they surrendered. Neither gave thought vengeance. All that mattered was survival.

“Okay, we’re here,” Kara said, opening the hatch. “Let me just check it out first, make sure there’s none of those maniacs hiding out in here.”

Kara stepped into the airlock and opened the pod. There was nothing inside that shouldn’t be.

“Okay Admiral,” she said, relief flooding her voice. “It’s clear. We’ll just…” Kara was interrupted by someone shoving her into the pod. She spun around in the confined space to find her aunt shutting the pod door and locking it.

“Admiral? Admiral, what are you doing?” Kara demanded.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” Astra said, tears spilling down her face. “They’ve cut us off. There isn’t any other pods. You wouldn’t make it.”

“So? Your life is worth more than mine!” Kara said, banging on the door.

“That isn’t true, Lieutenant,” Astra said sadly. “You are worth a thousand of me. Goodbye, Kara. I love you.”

“No!” Kara screamed as the pod launched. “Auntie! Auntie, no! Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me all alone!” she sobbed as pod jumped into the Phantom Zone.

Kara was still crying as the pod put her into cryosleep.

***

“The subversive Jor-El and his family have been neutralized,” the white clad warrior said.

“Good,” the Chief Councillor said. They were in his office, overlooking downtown Kryptonopolis. The Chief Councillor sat behind his living desk, staring pensively at the biotech monitors.

“Good,” he repeated. “Now that we’ve eliminated all of Zod’s…”

The hellspore Brainiac implanted in Krypton’s core erupted, sending a burning lance of flame right through the Chief Councillor’s office.

***

In a sense, the Council had been right about Jor-El and his findings. His calculations were way off. Krypton did not have an extra two months; Kal-El’s and Kara Zor-El’s pods escaped Krypton’s destruction with only seconds to spare. Though to be fair to Jor-El, he didn’t know about the hellspores.

Gouts of flame erupted throughout Krypton’s surface. Seas boiled. The atmosphere burned. Landmasses melted. The only mercy was the flames burned so hot, the Kryptonians died instantly.

That, and two space pods hurtling through space…

***

Jonathan and Martha Kent of Smallville, Kansas, were stranded on the side of the road. Their beat-up old pickup truck had broken down again, and the Kents were busy trying to fix it.

Jonathan was deep underneath the hood, looking for the problem. He was a big man, barrel-chested, with arms like branches and legs like tree trunks. He was tanned from a lifetime as a farmer. Jonathan wore a plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up and heavy duty blue jeans. On his feet were hiking boots. Black hair was plastered to his forehead. He had a square face with a bent nose.

“Try it again, Martha,” he said.

Martha Kent sat in the front seat of the truck. She turned the key. Martha was smaller than her husband, with a pear-shaped figure and a heart-shaped face. She wore a white t-shirt over heavy duty jeans and hiking boots. Her red hair was cut into a short bob. Martha was as tanned as her husband.

The truck slowly came back to life.

“There,” Jonathan said, wiping his hands on a rag. “That ought to do it.”

“For now,” Martha said. “We need to think about replacing this old heap, Jonathan.”

“I know, I know,” Jonathan said. “I’ll get into Joe’s…” Jonathan Kent was interrupted by a sudden flash of light and a tremendous bang.

“What the hell was that?” he demanded of no one in particular.

“I don’t know,” Martha said. “It came from over there,” she added, pointing off to a copse of woods over to the east. “I think we should go check it out. Can this thing handle the terrain?”

“We’re about to find out,” Jonathan said. He closed the truck’s hood and got into the seat beside Martha. Martha drove off towards the explosion.

***

Martha and Jonathan pulled up next to a crater just past the woods. There, inside the crater, was a spaceship.

“Well that’s new,” Jonathan said as he clambered out of the truck.

“An alien spaceship drops out of the sky and all you can say is ‘that’s new?’” Martha demanded as she got out of the truck.

“We don’t know it’s alien, Martha,” Jonathan pointed out. “It could be American. Or Russian.”

“America doesn’t send stuff up into space anymore, Jonathan,” Martha said. “And that doesn’t look like any Russian spacecraft I’ve ever seen. Look! You can see writing on the side.”

Jonathan peered down at the ship. Martha was right; there was some kind of script there on the side. “Looks like some kind of hieroglyphics,” he said. “Maybe we found the aliens that taught the Egyptians how to build pyramids,” he joked. Martha rolled her eyes.

“What do you think we should do with it?” she asked.

“Call the government,” Jonathan answered. “They’ve got all kinds of…” The spaceship opened. A baby cried.

Martha ran down the crater’s slope, all caution forgotten.

“Martha, wait!” Jonathan said, following after her. It was too late; Martha was already at the ship, gently pulling a bundle of cloth.

“It’s a baby Jonathan,” she said, crying. “It’s a baby. What kind of monster puts a baby in a spaceship?” Martha longed for a child of her own; after the last miscarriage, the doctors warned her not to try again.

“I don’t know, Martha,” Jonathan said, catching up to his wife. “Maybe it’s an escape pod of some kind? You know, like a life raft?”

“Maybe,” Martha conceded, gently rocking the baby. The child cooed in soft delight. Jonathan went to the pod to investigate further. Inside were various supplies, including blankets, clothes and what Jonathan assumed was baby food.

“What is it, Jonathan?” Martha asked.

“I’m not sure,” Jonathan said, continuing to poke around. “Whoever put that kid in here made sure it was well-stocked. Blankets, clothes… everything a baby would need.”

“Except parents,” Martha noted, bitterness creeping into voice.

“I’m not sure that was intentional, Martha,” Jonathan said grimly. “There’s a picture, some kind of hologram.”

“What’s it show?” Martha asked.

“Hold on,” Jonathan said. “It’s hard to understand without captions, but it looks like… oh, God Martha.”

“What is it?” Martha asked, alarmed by her husband’s sudden change in tone.

“It looks like… it looks like the boy’s planet was destroyed,” Jonathan said, his voice breaking. “Or was about to, anyway. The parents… they sent the boy off. They would join him as soon as they could.”

A stunned silence followed Jonathan’s words. Martha broke it, saying:

“Maybe they made it. Maybe they’re just… you know. Delayed.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan said, looking up at the night’s stars. “Maybe.” He looked back at his wife. An understanding came between them: there was no way they would let this child be taken in by the government. Or worse, the mega corporations who would undoubtedly experiment on the poor boy.

“Can the pickup handle the ship?” Martha asked.

“No,” Jonathan said. “I’ve got a tractor that can do it, but it will have to wait until tomorrow. For now, let’s get that boy to safety.”

Martha nodded and climbed back into the truck. Jonathan grabbed everything he could from the ship and did likewise. Within minutes they were off.

“Jonathan?” Martha asked.

“Yes, honey?” Jonathan answered.

“What do you think about the name ‘Clark’?”

***

“Clark! Clark Kent!” the teacher shouted at the hapless student.

Clark jumped in his desk. He had grown up to be barrel-chested like his father, and his light brown skin had darkened from years under the sun. He wore a plaid flannel button front shirt over a white t-shirt, blue jeans and red-and-blue sneakers. His wavy black hair was cut short. Blue eyes peered out through wire-framed glasses.

“Um, yes Mrs. Glass?” Clark said.

Mrs. Glass sighed while the rest of the class tittered. They were in the math classroom at Smallville High, which combined both junior and senior high schools. The students sat in desks arranged in neat rows while the teacher stood in front and lectured. And Clark, situated in the middle of the class, had fallen asleep again.

“The causes of the American Civil War, Kent,” Mrs. Glass said. “Recite them. Now.”

“Um,” Clark said. “Well, the Civil War started because the Southern States wanted to keep their slaves and support a system of white supremacy. Radical abolitionists, on the other hand, wanted to abolition slavery and integrate black people into society. So…”

Clark was interrupted by angry jeers from his classmates. Mrs. Glass sighed again and tried vainly to restore order.

***

“You sure have a talent for pissing off your classmates, Clark,” Lana Lang, Clark’s best friend, said as she walked beside him during lunch. Lana had red hair, gently sloping eyes, and sun-kissed skin. She wore a white tube top that stretched tightly over her pert breasts. A dark green skirt showed off her long legs. On her feet she wore black sneakers with frilly socks.

“It’s not my fault!” Clark protested. “The teacher asked me a question, and I answered it. I even gave the right answer, too. What more do they want from me?”

“Probably to not call their ancestors white supremacists, for a start,” Lana replied.

“Kansas fought _for_ the Union, Lana,” Clark pointed out. “We’re not a Southern State.”

“Oh, Clark,” Lana sighed. “How can somebody so brilliant be so naïve?”

“What do you mean?” Clark asked.

“Never mind,” Lana said, shaking her head. “What’s with you these days, anyway? You never used to sleep in class.”

“I—I was up all night,” Clark confessed.

“Doing what? Please say cow tipping,” Lana joked.

“Lana! No, it’s not like that,” Clark said.

“Then what?” Lana asked. Clark fell behind her, unsure of what to say. Lana turned around to see her friend stopped with his head bowed, deep in thought. “Hey,” she cooed. “You can tell me. This is Lana, remember? Your best friend since forever? Whatever it is Clark, you _can_ tell me. Is it…” she glanced around to make sure nobody was listening. “Are you trans or something?” she asked.

“Transhuman, maybe,” Clark muttered. Lana blinked.

“What?” she asked.

Clark sighed. “I’ve—been developing these powers lately,” he said, fast and low. “Like, all of a sudden I can hear everything. Upstairs, Mrs. Glass and the Principal are discussing the low test scores with the coach. They want to suspend the football team for how badly they’re doing in class; the coach wants them to… he isn’t saying it outright, but I think he wants to rig the tests. Or ignore them.”

“They shouldn’t suspend the team for their test scores,” Lana muttered darkly. “They should suspend them for the way they treat women.”

“That’s come up, too,” Clark admitted. “From the sounds of it, Mrs. Glass and the Principal are just threatening the coach, though. They don’t seem interested in actually defending the girls.”

“There’s a shocker,” Lana said. “What else? Any other powers?”

“Well…” Clark said. “I can see through things, sometimes. Kind of like X-Ray vision, I guess.”

“ _Cool_ ,” Lana said. “Wait, how many times have you peeked in on the girl’s locker room?”

“Lana!” Clark said. His friend was way too eager when she asked that question. “I would never use my powers like that!”

“You,” Lana said, “have no imagination whatsoever Clark Kent.” The two friends resumed walking across the field.

“What else can you do? Can you fly?” Lana asked.

“No. Jump good,” Clark answered, provoking a laugh from Lana.

“I miss that show,” she said. “But can you really jump like Jack?”

“Sure,” Clark said. “Sort of. I’m still having trouble with the landing part. I can run really fast, too. Like, faster than a train fast.”

“That is so cool,” Lana said.

“And I’m strong, too,” Clark said. “That’s why I was up all night last night. I, uh, broke one of dad’s tractors yesterday and I fixed it.”

“I knew it had something to do with your guilt complex,” Lana said. “You’re such a boy scout, Clark.” The two friends kept walking. Lana spoke up:

“Hey, maybe you’re an alien!” Clark stopped, his head bowed. Lana carried on for a few seconds more before realizing what she’d said.

“Clark, I was kidding!” she said. “You’re not an alien. You’re just Clark Kent, Smallville’s ultimate boy scout.” Clark was not cheered by Lana’s words. She looked at her friend with concern and compassion for a minute before taking him by the hand.

“Come here you big lug,” she said, leading him to a quiet place in the far corner of the school grounds. “I know how to take your mind off of things.”

“What do you mean?” Clark asked, confused.

“I mean I want to see how strong you are,” Lana said. “Call it a personal experiment.”

“Personal…? Lana wait! That’s dangerous!” Clark said.

“That’s okay,” Lana said with a shrug. “I like danger. Besides, I know a few ways to protect myself. Unless you’re not interested?” she asked, turning those big beautiful eyes on Clark.

Clark sighed. “Okay,” he said. “But you have to show me what you mean by ‘protection.’”

“You won’t be disappointed,” Lana promised him.

***

Several hours later, Clark was back on the Kent’s farm, after running there from the bus stop. The run had taken all of a few seconds, and he wasn’t even tired.

First, Clark set out to find his father. Jonathan was in the garage, tinkering with the tractor Clark had fixed earlier.

“Hi, son,” Jonathan called out as he felt the whoosh of air. “How was school?”

“I got in trouble for sleeping in class again,” Clark admitted.

“Well son,” Jonathan said as he closed the tractor’s hood. He was built much like Clark, albeit with a lighter skin tone. He wore a plaid flannel jacket, blue jeans and work boots. Jonathan wiped his greasy hands on a rag and continued:

“If you hadn’t stayed up all night fixing the tractor, you wouldn’t have slept in school today, would you? Not that I’m ungrateful,” he added.

“I broke it,” Clark said. “I should be the one to fix it.”

“That’s true,” Jonathan agreed. “But that doesn’t mean you had to fix it right last night. The tractor could wait a day or two.”

“I suppose,” Clark said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Something else bothering you, son?” Jonathan asked as he put his rag down.

“I told Lana what was happening to me,” Clark admitted. “And then we made out.” Clark blushed furiously at admitting that to his father.

“Ah,” Jonathan said. “Well, I’d be surprised if you couldn’t trust Lana. This will be a bit awkward, son, but did you…?”

“No!” Clark said. “I didn’t—I wasn’t comfortable with going that far. We just kissed, that’s all.”

“Okay,” Jonathan said. “I believe you, and I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. But given your new powers…”

“I know,” Clark said. “I need to be careful. Lana had… some ideas about that,” he added. “And they might have worked, too. But we were in school and…” he finished, shrugging.

“Probably better that you didn’t let it get too far, then,” Jonathan said. “How did Lana take it?”

“Supportive all the way,” Clark said. “I’m glad, too. I know a lot of girls who think guys can’t or shouldn’t say no.”

“You don’t think some of your classmates would have respected your decision?” Jonathan said.

“I know some of them wouldn’t,” Clark said. “Hell, most of them wouldn’t even have thought as far ahead as Lana did!”

“Makes you wonder what they’re teaching in schools these days,” Jonathan said.

“Yeah,” Clark said. After a minute, he added:

“Dad, what’s happening to me?”

Jonathan didn’t answer. Instead he said:

“Why don’t you get washed up and go help your mother with dinner? We’ll talk more later.”

***

Martha Kent stood in her kitchen, dancing to invisible music while she cut vegetables. She wore a black apron with red lettering that read ‘Kiss the Cook’ over a dark blue t-shirt, jeans and white socks. She had done her brown hair up in a loose bun.

“Someone’s in the kitchen with Dinah,” Martha hummed while she cut carrots for that night’s pot roast. She heard the door slam.

“Hi, Clark!” she called out.

“Hi Mom,” Clark called back.

“How was school?” Martha asked. Clark was silent for a moment. Martha grew concerned. Frowning, she asked:

“Clark? Did you hear me? I asked you how school was.”

“I heard you,” Clark said. “It’s… complicated. I’ll tell you after I get washed up.”

***

Clark repeated everything he told Jonathan to Martha while he helped her with dinner. Afterwards, the Kent family stood together in the barn once more.

“You remember what we told you about how we found you, son?” Jonathan asked.

“Sure,” Clark said. “You said you’d found me at the side of the road, after a car crash or something. You couldn’t find my birth family, so you adopted me.”

Jonathan and Martha shared looks. “We didn’t tell you the whole truth, Clark,” Martha admitted.

“What?” Clark asked. Jonathan reached down to the barn floor, brushing aside the straw piled on the floor to reveal a trap door. Jonathan pulled open the door to reveal a spaceship, damaged from a violent re-entry.

“What the heck is that?” Clark asked.

“The ‘car’ we found you in,” Jonathan remarked.

“Are you telling me I’m an _alien_?” Clark demanded.

“I’m afraid so, honey,” Martha said. “We found you in this ship in the middle of giant crater. There was a hologram inside, kind of like a movie. It explained what happened to your people. Your birth people, I mean.”

“What happened to them?” Clark repeated. “What do you mean, _what happened to them_?”

“It’s probably better if you look for yourself,” Jonathan said. “Once we closed the shuttle door, we never could get the darned thing open again. It’s probably one of those fancy biometric scanners, coded only to you. Go on, take a look.”

Clark nodded and pressed his hands against the spaceship. The ship glowed brightly.

“ ** _Scanning_** ” the ship said. “ ** _Scanning. Location confirmed. Location is Earth. Pod is off course. Resetting parameters._** ”

“Wait!” Clark said. “Um, where was your original destination?”

“ ** _Scanning,_** ” the pod repeated. “ ** _Identity confirmed. Subject is Kal-El, son of Jor-El and Lara Lor-Van. Please repeat query._** ”

“What was your original destination?” Clark asked.

“ ** _Pod’s original destination was Ma’aleca’andra,_** ” the pod said. “ ** _Known to this planet as Mars._** ”

“Um, there’s no life on Mars,” Clark said.

“ ** _Incorrect,_** ” the pod said. “ ** _Mars is inhabited by two sapient species, the Green and White Martians. Due to environmental considerations, they live beneath the surface of Mars._** ”

“If you say so,” Clark said. “Um, ship or pod or computer or whatever I call you, who am I? Where do I come from? Who are Jor-El and Lara Lor-Van?”

“ ** _You are Kal-El of the house of El,_** ” the pod responded. “ ** _You are of the planet Krypton. Sixteen local years ago, the planet Krypton the Coluan menace known as Brainiac invaded Krypton, destroying the cities of Argos and Kandor. His attacks damaged Krypton’s core, which would eventually destroy Krypton. Jor-El predicted this and, with the aid of Lara Lor-Van, your uncle Zor-El, his wife Alura Zor-El and your aunt Astra, devised a plan to save Krypton. Several Kryptonians would launch themselves into space, towards Mars. The rest of Krypton’s population would go into the Phantom Zone. Once the Kryptonians arrived on Mars, they would open a portal into the Phantom Zone and bring the other Kryptonians back. From there, the Kryptonians would rebuild._** ”

“On Mars?” Clark asked.

“ ** _Unlikely,_** ” the ship said. “ ** _Mars already has two sapient populations. But there are other planets in the galaxy, ones without any such populations. They could be converted to Kryptonian use._** ”

“That makes sense,” Clark said. “So, Jor-El had this plan, right? Where are the other Kryptonians? Where have they been for the last sixteen years? Did they just… forget about me?” Clark didn’t want to imply that he was in any way unhappy or ungrateful for the Kent’s love and care, but the idea that he may have been forgotten hurt.

“ ** _No,_** ” the pod said. Clark’s spirits lifted. The pod’s words crushed them so thoroughly for moment, he wondered if he’d ever be happy again.

“ ** _The Kryptonian Science Council, on the advice of several public opinion polls, rejected Jor-El’s findings,_** ” the pod said. “ ** _Jor-El was forced to launch prematurely. You were the first, to be followed by Jor-El, Lara, and the Zor-Els. Simultaneously, the Kryptonian Reconnaissance Fleet was to launch as well. However, a squad of unidentified commandoes assaulted Jor-El’s home and killed his family, save you. Shortly thereafter, Krypton detonated, much earlier than Jor-El had predicted. To this pod’s knowledge, there are no other Kryptonian survivors._** ”

“Thank you,” Clark said, tears running down his face. “That’s all I wanted to know.” He lifted his hand from the pod, shutting it down.

Martha and Jonathan rushed to hug their son while he howled in grief.

***

Clark Kent flew through the night sky, a bound and gagged woman in a purple dress on his shoulder. In the ten years since Clark had discovered his heritage, he had gone to school, got a degree in journalism, dated and broke up with Lana Lang, and moved to Metropolis in Illinois, where he got a job as a reporter for the Daily Planet.

He also had a second career. One that involved dressing up in a blue long-sleeved shirt, red biking shorts, blue tights, red boots and a red cape. On his chest was a triangular red shield with a stylized red ‘S’ on a yellow background inside of it. There was a matching shield on the back of the cape. Around his waist was a yellow belt. His black hair was slicked back, with a spit-curl in the front. The media dubbed him ‘Superman’, which Clark admitted was appropriate, given his powers and the ‘S’ shield. The ‘S’ was derived from the crest of the House of El, which stood for hope. That it looked like an ‘S’ was a coincidence, nothing more, but Clark couldn’t help the conclusions people jumped to.

It wasn’t important right now, anyway. Right now, Clark had a mission to complete. An innocent man was about to be executed for a crime he didn’t commit, on no more evidence than a wave of popular sentiment. Popular sentiment driven by Bruno Mannheim, ‘respected’ businessman. Clark had less love for Ugly Bruno than most, and his pressuring the governor into an execution did nothing to endear him to Clark.

So Clark flew to the governor’s estate, his suspect in tow. He landed by a tree and placed her there. Clark strode across the lawn until he was at the governor’s door. He knocked.

“Who the hell are you, and what are you doing here? It’s 3 a.m!” the butler said once he opened the door. He was dressed in a checkered housecoat and a sleeping cap. Clark tried not to laugh, remembering that he was in a silly outfit himself.

“I need to see the governor,” Clark said instead. “It’s a matter of life and death.”

“See him in the morning,” the butler said, yawning. He made to shut the door.

Clark stopped him. “I’m going to see him now,” he said, holding the door open with one hand. The butler, startled, put his shoulder into the door. Clark did nothing. Eventually the door shattered under the force. The butler fell forward into Clark’s outstretched hand.

“This—this is illegal entry!” the butler protested. “I’ll have you arrested!”

“Answer my question,” Clark said, gripping the man by the front of his housecoat. “Are you going to take me to the governor or not?”

“No! I won’t!” the butler said.

“Then I’ll take you to him!” Clark said, hoisting the man up into the air and walking up the stairs to the governor’s bedroom, all the while the butler screaming for help to no avail.

***

The two men stopped outside a steel door north of the stairs. Clark set the butler down while he studied the door.

“Yeah, this is the governor’s bedroom,” the butler said. His hair was dishevelled and sweat ran down his face. “Don’t think you’re going to get away with this!”

“Uh-huh,” Clark said, cupping his hand in his chin. He tried the door. “It’s locked,” he said to himself.

“That’s right,” the butler said, grinning. “It’s made of steel, too. Just try knocking down this door!”

Clark dug his fingers into the door frame and pulled. The steel crumpled as if it was cardboard.

“Just remember, it was your idea,” Clark said to the astonished butler as he walked into the governor’s bedroom.

“What’s the meaning of this?” the governor demanded, waking up from his bed. He was a balding older man with a grey mustache dressed in striped blue-and-white pajamas. The governor flicked on the light to see Clark and his butler standing there.

“Evelyn Curry is about to be executed for a crime she didn’t commit,” Clark said. “I have proof of her innocence here,” he added, producing a letter from his belt. “A signed confession.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Clark saw the butler lunge for a revolver on the governor’s night stand. In a single step, Clark was between the butler and the governor. The butler fired all six rounds at Clark. The bullets hit his chest with impressive accuracy and fell to the ground, their energy spent against his nigh-invulnerable chest.

“So much for responsible gun ownership,” Clark said. “Governor, when I leave here I want you to lock this gun up in a gun safe. You do have a gun safe, don’t you?” He reached over and took the revolver from the butler’s nerveless hands.

“Sure, whatever you want,” the governor said, reaching for the paper Clark dropped. He read it quickly, then grabbed his cellphone from the other nightstand. One quick whispered conversation later and it was all over.

“It’s done,” the governor said. “Evelyn Curry’s free.”

“Thank you, governor,” Clark said. “Next time, maybe you shouldn’t kill someone just ‘cause some loudmouth with a bully pulpit says you should. Goodnight gentlemen!” he finished. Clark walked over to the governor’s window, opened it and climbed half-way out. Remembering something, he turned half-way and said:

“Oh, the real culprit is sitting on your lawn by the big oak tree. You might want to go rescue her. It’s awfully cold out there tonight.” And with that, he was gone.

***

The next day, Alexander ‘Lex’ Luthor, head of LuthorCorp and the most powerful man in Metropolis laid face down on a massaging table while reading a copy of the Daily Planet. Lex was bald, with a Greek nose, thick lips, broad shoulders, a narrow waist, toned biceps and legs. Lex was as proud of his body as he was his mind, and kept both in peak condition.

“It was Superman,” he said, flipping through the paper.

“You don’t know that boss,” Mercy Graves, Lex’s assistant, bodyguard, masseuse, and right hand woman pointed out from above him. She was tall, with brown hair, grey eyes, broad shoulders, narrow waist, average breasts and a tight butt she privately considered her best feature. Today she was dressed in a thin shirt and baggy pants. Mercy oiled up her hands and massaged Lex’s back. “The paper doesn’t say why the governor changed his mind.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Lex agreed. “But can you imagine anything else getting through that ditherer’s head? Even _I_ couldn’t persuade him to let Curry go, and I all but own the man. No. It was Superman all right. He must have scared the hell out of the governor and the real suspect to get what he wanted.” Had Lex been paying attention, he would have noticed just how much he enjoyed Mercy’s touch. As it was, he focused on Superman.

“Noble of him, to stick his neck out like that for someone he doesn’t know,” Mercy commented as she continued to massage Lex’s back.

“Perhaps,” Lex said, his deep voice contemplative. “Perhaps. We will see.”

***

Perry White, owner, publisher and editor of the Daily Planet and the only man J. Jonah Jameson ever feared, sat in his desk, reading reports from his various reporters.

Perry was dark-skinned, with a large bald head, broad nose, deep set eyes, and a jutting chin. He wore a dark blue-checkered vest over a brown tie and white dress shirt with black slacks, black socks and brown oxford shoes. A quiet, contemplative soul was Perry White, unlike his former partner in crime. He and Jonah had one quality they shared, though: they were the last honest newsmen in their respective cities.

The door to Perry’s office opened. Perry looked up to see Clark Kent holding the door open. Clark was Perry’s newest hire, a country boy from somewhere in Kansas. He was tall, broad shouldered and with a narrow waist. Clark had a rectangular face with a protruding chin, bright blue eyes he hid behind glasses, slicked back black hair, and very light brown skin. He wore a conservative light blue suit with matching vest over a red tie and white dress shirt with black socks and black oxfords.

“You wanted to see us, sir?” Clark asked.

“Yeah, you and Lois had better get your butts in here,” Perry said, rubbing his face. “And don’t call me ‘sir’, Clark.”

“Yes sir,” Clark said. He opened the office door a little wider and in walked Lois Lane, the Daily Planet’s very own force of nature.

“Yeah, what do you want Perry? I got five stories on the burner already,” Lois said. Lois was average height for a woman, with an hourglass figure and long legs encased in pantyhose. She wore a deep red jacket over a short black shirt and black flats. Lois wore her black hair with the bangs short and down to her neck in the back, showing off those vivid purple eyes of hers.

“Either of you here of a joker named ‘Superman?’ Perry asked, leaning back in his chair.

“Sure, he’s some urban legend like Bigfoot or integrity in politicians,” Lois said, tapping her feet.

“For a reporter Lois, you sure aren’t accepting of anything that doesn’t fit your world view,” Perry remarked.

“Come on Perry,” Lois said. “A guy who’s immune to bullets? Rip steel doors off their hinges? Can _fly_? Sounds like somebody’s been hitting the happy juice a little too hard if you ask me.”

“Wonder Woman could do all those things back in World War 2,” Clark pointed out after closing the door behind Lois and stepping into the office. “So could Namor the Sub-Mariner.”

“ _Allegedly_ ,” Lois said. “Allegedly, they could do those things. They were probably propaganda cooked up by the OSS or whatever. Same with Hitler’s fake Valkyrie.”

“You are a skeptical woman Lois,” Perry said. “That’s why I want you and Clark to cover these reports. If it’s a hoax, I want to know who’s behind it and why. And if it isn’t, I want to make sure the Daily Planet is the first to get the scoop. Clear?”

Lois’ reaction was immediate and predicable. “No way, chief!” she said. “I’m working up those racketeer stories right now, I got another three on the burner after that! I can’t waste my time on some shared hallucination!”

“I’d be happy to take the assignment Perry,” Clark said. “I guess Lois doesn’t mind giving up the story of the century.” He flashed a sly smile at Lois, who glared back.

“Uh-huh Smallville,” Lois said. “You can’t trick me that easy. I’m still not interested.”

Perry sighed. “Do what you want, Lois,” he said. “But if Clark gets the story and your name isn’t anywhere on the article, we’re going to have a talk.”

“If,” Lois said, and walked back out the door. Clark and Perry watched her go, exasperated expressions on their faces.

“You know she won’t date you,” Perry said, turning back to his papers with a shake of his head.

“I don’t even want a date,” Clark said as he followed Lois out of the room. “I just want her to eat something that isn’t takeout.”

Perry chuckled at that as Clark closed the door.

***

As Clark walked out of Perry’s office, one of his colleagues shouted out:

“Kent! A phoned in tip—A wife beating at 211 Court Avenue!”

“I’m on it,” Clark said, changing direction from his desk to the Daily Planet’s bank of elevators.

***

“Look at what you made me do!” the man at 211 Court Avenue said. He was of average height and average build with medium brown hair and light skin. He wore a brown vest over a white shirt and tie with brown pants. The sleeves were rolled up and in his hand was a belt. On the floor in a yellow dressed was a blonde woman, covered in bruises.

“Look at what you made me do!” the man shouted. “That’s your problem, you never take responsibility for your actions!”

“Says the guy blaming his victim for their beating,” a voice from behind the man said. The man whirled around to see a figure in a blue unitard with red trunks, a yellow belt, a red ‘S’ on a yellow background inside a red triangle on the chest, a red cape and red boots. The man was barrel-chested, like a power-lifter, with thick arms and legs. His face was oval, almost boyish, with piercing blue eyes and light brown skin. The man’s black hair was spit-curled in front. He stood there, leaning against the doorjamb, his arms folded against his chest.

“Who the fuck are you?” the wife-beater asked. “And what the fuck do you want?”

“The newsies call me ‘Superman,’” the figure said. “It’ll do for now. As for what I want, I thought we’d start with you not beating your wife anymore. See where we go from there.”

“Don’t get cute,” the wife-beater snarled, marching in on Superman with his belt held high.

“I can’t help it if I was born cute,” Superman said, grabbing a hold of the wife-beater and holding him aloft. “Now, let’s try this again. What are you not going to do anymore?”

“Fuck you!” the wife-beater spat, kicking and punching Superman. Most of the blows missed, but a few connected. To the wife-beater’s discomfort.

“Argh! Holy Jesus fuck, what are you made of?” he screamed.

“Can’t be bronze, that was Doc Savage,” Superman said. “Guess maybe I’m made of steel. Now, why don’t you calm down?” Superman tossed the offending male into a nearby wall. He crashed into then slid down, out of the fight.

A quick check on the two occupants of the room left Superman convinced they would be all right, at least long enough for him to change back into Clark Kent.

One quick change later and Superman was gone, leaving only mild-mannered reporter Clark Kent. Clark was still examining the woman when the police showed up.

“Who are you?” one officer asked. She was a blonde woman, with a straight figure, round face, bobbed hair and dressed in a brown trench coat, navy blue dress pants and black dress shoes.

“I’m Clark Kent,” Clark said. “I’m a reporter from the Daily Planet. We got a phone tip about a wife-beating.”

“Detective Maggie Sawyer,” the officer said. “When did you receive this tip?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Clark said, rubbing his chin. “Sometime in the last half-hour, I guess. Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“And you still arrived here before us,” Detective Sawyer said, narrowing her grey eyes.

“Only just,” Clark answered.

“Hmm,” Sawyer said. She nodded at the unconscious figure of the wife-beater. “You’re work?” she asked.

“No ma’am,” Clark said, shaking his head. “I found the place like this.”

“Right,” Sawyer said. She shook her head. “How’s the vic?”

“She’s seen better days,” Clark answered.

“No kidding,” Sawyer said. “Okay, let’s get this cleaned up.”

***

Lois Lane, ace reporter, sat at her desk, typing away furiously. She didn’t notice Clark come up behind her until he said:

“‘Patient’ is spelled ‘p-a- _t_ -i-e-n-t’, Lois. There’s no ‘sh’ in there.”

Lois scowled at the computer screen before relaxing her features and said:

“I knew that.”

“Uh-huh,” Clark said. Lois could see his smug grin reflected off the computer screen. Lois scowled once more.

“What do you want, Smallville?” she demanded, spinning around in her chair to face Clark.

“Oh, I just thought you’d want to read this first draft of my report to Perry,” Clark said, handing her a stack of stapled-together papers.

“You can’t mock my spelling and ask me to proofread your stories at the same time, Kent,” Lois said, snatching the papers out of his hand. She read them. Her eyes widened in shock.

“Are you serious?” she demanded.

“The wife drifted in and out of consciousness,” Clark said, “so her testimony is a little suspect. But the husband got beat up by somebody, and at least three other witnesses saw a guy in a blue and red costume enter and leave the apartment. Plus, Detective Sawyer confirmed that the police have a file open on this ‘Superman’.”

Lois leaned back in her chair, shaking her head. “You got lucky,” she accused.

“Maybe,” Clark conceded. “But still. I proved Lois Lane wrong. That’s got to be one for the history books, right?”

“Funny guy,” Lois said. She sighed. “Okay Smallville, what do you want?”

“For you not to feel pressured,” Clark said. “And for you to eat something other than takeout,” he added, pointing at the boxes of Chinese, Indian, and Italian food sitting on her desk.

Lois gave the boxes a sharp look before turning to Clark. “I don’t do home-cooked meals,” she warned.

“It doesn’t have to be home-cooked,” Clark said. “Just something healthier than warmed over pizza.”

“I like pizza,” Lois said. “Fine. I’ll pick you up around six-thirty. If you’re late or take too long, I’ll leave and you’ll be on your own. Got it?”

“Got it,” Clark said.

“This is a one-time only thing Smallville,” Lois warned. “A recognition of your one and only time of one-upping me. Got it?”

“Fair enough,” Clark said. “See you at seven, Lois.”

“I said six-thirty, Kent,” Lois reminded him.

“Yeah,” Clark said, walking off. “But you’ll be late.”

Lois scowled at Clark’s retreating back before returning to her work.

***

Lois wasn’t quite as late as Clark predicted. Still, she missed her own deadline by fifteen minutes.

“You’re building is hard to find,” she complained to Clark once she picked him up. Lois was dressed in a dark red dress.

“Yeah, that’s why everyone warned me about getting an apartment in Metropolis Heights,” Clark said. He wore a fancier version of his blue suit from earlier in the day. “Nobody would ever find me in the middle of Metropolis. In Metropolis’ largest residential area. Right on the city’s main drag.”

Lois threw Clark a sour look. “Leave the sarcasm to me, Smallville,” she said. “You’re no good at it.”

They arrived at a small, out-of-the-way Spanish restaurant Clark picked out and settled in for dinner.

“You don’t see a lot of _Spanish_ restaurants out here,” Lois commented as she read the menu. “Mostly it’s Mexican or some kind of South American food. Not that I’m complaining.”

“Yeah, it surprised me too,” Clark said, skimming through his own menu.

“How did you ever find this place?” Lois asked.

“I was doing a piece on minimum wages in the city and their impact on businesses and workers alike,” Clark said. “This was one restaurant I studied.”

“I remember that piece,” Lois said. “It was… okay.”

“A date and a compliment,” Clark said, smirking. “I can die happy now.”

Lois shot him an amused glance. “What did I tell you about sarcasm, Smallville?” she asked.

“Who said anything about sarcasm?” Clark replied.

***

Over at another table, across the room from where Lois and Clark sat, another group of people were having their own whispered conversation. They were big men, dressed in ugly ill-fitting

“That’s not Lois Lane over there, is it?” the first one asked.

“It sure is, the bitch,” the second answered. “She sent my uncle and brother to Stryker’s with that fake news story of hers.”

“When she leaves, we’ll grab her,” the third said. “Teach her not to print those lies.”

“What about that guy who’s with her?” the first said. “He looks pretty big.”

“Idiot,” the third one sneered. “There’s three of us and only one of him. If he tries anything, we’ll take care of him, too.”

***

The evening passed in pleasant company. Lois was even smiling as she and Clark got up from the table.

“All right Smallville,” she said, a big happy smile plastered all over her face. “You’re not half-bad as a date. Maybe, maybe, we can do this again sometime.”

“I don’t know,” Clark said. “Maybe if all I get is a ‘not half-bad’, maybe I should try somebody who can appreciate me more?”

“Like who? Cat Grant?” Lois said, shooting Clark a sly look. Clark chuckled.

“Okay,” he said, “maybe not. Listen, Lois, I have to hit the washroom before we go.”

“Sure, I’ll meet you at the car,” Lois said. “And Clark? Thanks for dinner.” Clark headed to the washrooms while Lois went over to the restaurant’s entrance. As Clark moved to the washrooms, he spied three men get up a table in the far corner. Something about them triggered Clark’s instincts, and he stopped to watch them as they made their way towards Lois. It wasn’t like he needed to use the washroom anyway; that was just keeping up appearances.

Clark’s instincts were dead on. The three men grabbed Lois on their way out, taking her to their car. Lois, to her credit, bit and kicked and scratched and screamed. The restaurant’s patrons, to their lack of credit, did nothing.

“Somebody should do something,” one patron said, using the most useless cliché there was, in Clark’s opinion.

 _This looks like a job for Superman,_ he thought as he rushed out the door.

***

It took a bit for Clark to catch up with Lois’ kidnappers. First he drove Lois’ car out of sight of the restaurant patrons, to avoid any awkward questions later. Then he changed into his costume and flew off, using his super-senses to keep track of the kidnappers car.

Finally, on a twisting back road, Clark caught up with the kidnappers. He flew in front of them, stopping just far enough in front of the oncoming car to give the kidnappers time to stop. He stood there floating, arms folded across his chest. The car, instead of stopping, surged forward. Clark sighed. He grabbed a hold of the car, flipping it on its nose and shaking the occupants out, grabbing Lois on her way down and set her gently on the road. The thugs were not so lucky. The hit the asphalt hard, bouncing like rubber balls on the floor.

With a fraction his might, Clark heaved the car into a nearby rocky outcropping, smashing it to bits. The kidnappers ran. Clark grabbed them and, taking a coil of rope from his belt, tied them up.

Next he turned to Lois, who stared at his handiwork with eyes the size of planets.

“You needn’t be afraid of me, ma’am,” he said. Lois nodded, dumbfounded. Clark picked her up and flew her to a local police station, along with her kidnappers. The cops were as dumbstruck as Lois.

Next, Clark flew back to where he stashed Lois’ car and changed into his civilian clothes. Then he drove to the police station, making sure he looked as harassed as possible.

“Excuse me,” he said to the desk sergeant. “I need your help. A friend of mine was kidnapped tonight…”

“Kidnapped and rescued already, Smallville,” a shaky voice said from behind him. Clark turned to see Lois standing behind him, drinking a cup of coffee. A cop’s coat was draped over her shoulders.

“Lois!” Clark cried. “Thank goodness you’re all right. I looked everywhere for you. Are you hurt? Did they do anything to you?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Not the first time somebody’s tried to grab me.”

“But?” Clark said. “C’mon, Lois. I can see you’re shaken up about something.”

“He’s real, Kent,” she said. “I saw him.”

***

The next day, Perry White sat in his chair, reading Lois’ story, one hand cupping his chin. He wore a light blue suit with a red tie, white dress-shirt, black socks, and brown oxford shoes.

“I though you didn’t believe in this guy, Lois,” he said.

“That was before I saw him smash a car with his bare hands,” Lois pointed out. She wore dark blue double-breasted jacket, red shirt, black skirt, stockings and black heels.

“Or shake you out of a car,” Perry said. “Jesus, Lois. If even half this crap’s true, this guy’s incredible. Do you think we can trust him?”

“You know Perry,” Lois said. “I think we can.”

END CHAPTER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! You know, after I wrote Amazing Fantasy #15 (the first chapter of my Spider-man, not the original Sixties comic), I swore that I’d never write a chapter so long again. Principles are slippery things, it seems.  
> So! Here we have it, the first adventure of Superman, adapted from a combination of Superman: The Animated Series (the Kryptonian parts mostly, and that scene with Lana is basically an adultier version of one from S:TAS) and Superman’s very first adventure in comics. Including, yes, that iconic scene of Superman smashing a car to bits.  
> One last question: why does Brainiac have hellspores? That’s for me to know, reader, and for you to find out! 
> 
> ***
> 
> Superman created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster.
> 
> ***
> 
> If you enjoyed this chapter, please support me on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/joshstoodley) or by my original fiction on Amazon. Or buy me a coffee (http://ko-fi.com/falconlord)
> 
> Robots and Vampires (https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00NDLMDT4): Two hundred years in the future, a young cyborg stops the richest boy in town from killing a gynoid. Now he must flee from the only home he’s ever known to Fort City, base of the mysterious Standard Technologies, Inc. Can he trust them?
> 
> The Standard Tech Case Files-The Black Coats (https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00VTWMR7W): When there’s a corpse on the street, somebody has to answer for that. When the body in question is the squire of a prominent vampire, the call for blood only gets louder. Follow Joey Bianco and his squire Jen Ryan as they hunt down a killer and try to keep the peace between vampires and humans.
> 
> The Standard Tech Case Files-The Dead and The Damned (https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01MRSBC7I): Tensions between humanity and vampires are heating up. A vampire store has been ransacked. Protestors are being arrested without trial. Can Joey Bianco and Jen Ryan find a peaceful solution? Or will the streets of Fort City run red with blood?


	2. Metropolitan Mayhem!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lex Luthor unveils a terrifying new weapon of war, but it's stolen by Kaznian freedom fighters right from under his nose. Can Clark Kent, also known as Superman, find the Lexo-Skel 5000 before it leaves the country? And just what is Lex's connection to the Kaznians?
> 
> Find in to find out!

Superman: Metropolitan Mayhem!

 

The alarm built into the isolation tank beeped, a gentle sound that came across as harsh and grating after eight hours of a total sensory deprivation. Clark Kent, also known as the superhero Superman, was used to it, however.

As the lid slid open on the tank, Clark rose out of the saline solution, blinking and shaking his head to adjust to the sudden return of his super-senses. The smell of salt water hit his nose like a freight train at full speed, requiring Clark to grab a hold of the sides of the tank to stay steady as he adjusted. Dust tickled his nose and the scent of mildew warned Clark he'd have to clean the tank when he got home that night. The sound of boiling water came from the apartment north of his; above Clark, a baby cried. The dog from the southern apartment howled to be let outside. His penis strained against its plastic cage.

 Clark blinked, turning on his X-Ray vision. In the apartment below his, another two of his neighbours were snuggling on a bed beneath bedraggled sheets. Clark switched off his X-Ray vision before he saw anything more. He pulled himself out of the blue-lit eggshell, nearly slipping from his wet hands and dropped onto the thick carpet. Clark ran his fingers over his hard wet muscled body, then took off the chastity cage and walked over to the art déco dresser underneath the east window and dried the cage off with a towel. Then he placed the cage in a box beside a picture of Lana Lang.

 _Fitting,_ Clark thought with a smile as he folded his arms across his chest. _It was Lana who introduced me to things like chastity cages after all. A shame she isn't here. But we just didn't work out in the end._ Clark pulled open the curtains on the window and let the sunlight bathe him with its warmth, drying off some of the water from the tank and rejuvenating his powers. Then Clark walked to the north wall and his computer desk and turned the machine on. Clark logged on, then opened the news app and set it to play as he got ready.

"Good morning Metropolis!" Leslie Willis' grating screech came out over the speakers. "How's it going, babies? Terrible? Tell me about it! The weather's been terrible for all of us normal, non-sun-worshipping types and it's only going to get worse. Temperature today is supposed to be seventy-two degrees! Can you believe that? It's global warming, I tell ya! All those sun freaks are trying to kill off us pale-skinned types with these heat waves, that's what it is. And traffic's not going to be any better, babies. Might want a toke on the way to work this morning 'cause there's a car accident on Fleischer Avenue, again..."

Clark left Leslie's ramblings on as he made his way west to his bathroom. There, Clark hopped in the shower and rinsed himself off. The pounding of the water from the showerhead was a welcome sensation after the isolation tank. Clark poured some body wash onto his hands and rubbed them together to get the soap all foamy then rubbed it all over his body, scrubbing away the dirt and bacteria. Next came the shampoo and conditioner, which Clark rubbed through his straight black hair, determined to get all the grease and debris from flying out of it. Once he finished, Clark turned the water off and stepped out of the shower to grab a towel and wipe himself off.

Wrapping the towel securely around his waist, Clark looked in the mirror, rubbing one hand over his face. There was some stubble there, stubble no razor could cut. So Clark bounced low-powered heat vision off the mirror, vaporizing the hairs. Then he took a comb, wetted it, and ran the comb through his hair. Then he opened the bathroom's medicine cabinet and pulled out a pair of blue contacts to dim his electric blue eyes. Satisfied he didn't look like an MRA loser or Superman, Clark went back to his room where Leslie was still complaining.

"... and, if you can believe it babies, _another_ faction of the BLM movement sued the first faction for cutting out the Jews of colour in the first place!" Leslie said. "Can you saw 'oy vey' babies? I'd say I'm jumping ship to the Republicans, but a Tea Partier just shot Paul Ryan on live T.V. 'cause dear old Paul couldn't repeal Obamacare! Babies, and you thought the Weimar Republic was bad..."

 _I'm surprised she even knows what the Weimar Republic is,_ Clark thought as he turned off the news app and checked the time. _Just after six. I still have enough time to get to the Planet, even with an accident on Fleischer._ Then he went over to the closet in his bedroom's west wall and opened it, depositing the towel in the laundry basket inside. Clark then pulled aside two pairs of suits to reveal a hidden panel containing his Superman costume. Clark pulled the costume out and laid the blue unitard with a red 'S' on a yellow background inside a red diamond, red trunks, yellow belt, red gloves and cape on the bed.

 _They have to air out for a few minutes after being in the cubby-hole all night_ , he thought, _which gives me enough time to make breakfast_. Clark then walked out of the bedroom and southwest to his kitchen where he pulled out a bag of instant pancake mix from the pantry and a jug of milk from the fridge. Clark poured enough mix for two pancakes into a mixing bowl before putting the mix back in the pantry then poured in the milk and put that back in the fridge, too.

 _Ma would kill me if she saw the kind of breakfast I was eating in Metropolis,_ Clark thought as he stirred the mix together. _I guess it can't be helped; fresh food is so expensive here! And I don't have the time for Ma's home cooked meals anymore. At least I'm eating three squares a day._

Once Clark finished mixing the pancake mix, he pulled out a frying pan and placed it on the stove, placing a drop of butter on the pan and swirling it around while he turned the heat on. The butter soon began to sizzle, making Clark's stomach growl. Then he poured the first pancake onto the pan and let it cook. It did not take long for the batter to start sizzling, too. Clark then pulled out another frying pan and did the same thing, emptying the last of the pancake batter into it. The apartment soon smelled of cooking pancakes.

While the pancakes cooked, Clark assembled the rest of his breakfast. First, he pulled out a third frying pan and placed it on the stove. Then Clark pulled out an egg carton from the fridge and grabbed two eggs, which he cracked against the frying pan and poured into the pan. The eggs sizzled and popped as soon as they hit the pan Next was the bacon. Clark pulled out a bacon tray from the pantry and layered five slices of bacon across it. Then he placed two paper towel sheets over the bacon and put the bacon in microwave and set. The smell of bacon cooking joined the pancakes and eggs.

 _Quarter past six_ , Clark thought, checking the oven's clock. _I'd better get hustling or I'm going to be late. And you don't want to be late on your first week on the job!_

Leaving the food to cook for a few minutes, Clark went back to his room and pulled out a duffel bag from his closet. A quick check showed Clark his notepad, spare pencils, gym clothes, contact lenses and spare shoes were still in there. Clark took all that stuff out, then grabbed a pair of red thigh-high boots and placed them in the bottom of the bag. Then he grabbed the cape, gloves and belt and placed them in the bag. Clark then slipped on the unitard and trunks.

Clark then rushed back to the kitchen to flip the eggs and pancakes. The microwave beeped and Clark took out the bacon and placed it on a plate. A quick glance told him the pancakes and eggs were ready, too. Clark then piled them on his plate and wolfed down the food, not bothering leaving the kitchen. Once he finished his breakfast, Clark turned off the stove and put all the dishes in the sink.

 _I'll clean those later,_ he thought. _Right now, I've got to get dressed!_

Clark rushed back to his room and put on his blue suit and horn-rimmed glasses. Then he grabbed his duffel bag, did a quick check of the apartment to make sure the stove and oven were turned off, and went out the door, locking it behind him

* * *

Lois Lane sat at her desk, cluttered with photos of the journalism awards she'd won, a pencil holder containing every writing utensil imaginable, a clunky landline, a Rolodex and an in-box overflowing with papers, chewing on a highlighter while typing away at her computer, the clicking of her keys like machine gun fire. The oval screen, covered in sticky notes filled with dates names places, flickered as the computer struggled to keep up with Lois' fingers. The wax paper from her morning bagel joined the remains of other junk breakfasts beside her high heeled feet. Lois' police scanner app burbled crime reports over the speakers from the corner of her computer screen.

All around her, Lois heard her colleagues typing away or chatting with each other or typing away at their keyboards. The familiar smells of stale bagels, cold coffee, printer ink and leftover pizza wafted over the cubicle walls.

 _Ah, the familiar smells and sounds of a newsroom,_ Lois thought, taking the highlighter out of her mouth and putting it back in the pencil holder. _It's been a good last few months. The Republican-Democrat drama's always good for a few stories. I bet even that cute hayseed Clark is working on something, and he still hasn't lost that new car smell! I just wish I hadn't burned through all the_ good _stories already. I'll never keep my reputation as this paper's star journalist at this rate._ She turned to scowl at the stack of papers in her in-box, each of which marked The Daily Planet's acceptance of one of her stories. There were enough in there to cover the next six months, more than half of them headline worthy. It was an impressive achievement if you were anybody but Lois Lane.

She turned back to her computer screen and leaned back, staring at the computer while resting one hand against her chin. Lois let her mind drift into a daydream; unbidden, a fantasy of Clark Kent shirtless swam up from the depths of her subconscious. Lois sunk further into her chair, intent on enjoying the daydream.

"Don't tell me the great Lois Lane has writer's block?" a voice from behind her said. Lois whirled around in her chair to see the real thing leaning against the side of her cubicle, dressed in a blue suit, white shirt, red tie, and black shoes. Clark was handsome, for a rube. He was six foot three, broad-shouldered and barrel-chested; he had a square jaw, bright rounded blue eyes covered by a pair of stylish horn-rimmed spectacles, thick black hair and flawless brown skin.

"Oh, it's you," Lois said, glancing away from Clark's perfect square jaw and bright blue eyes to an old calender hanging on her wall, trying to hide her blush. "What do you want Smallville? I'm busy."

"Counting flowers on the wall?" Clark asked, smirking. Lois scowled and turned back to her computer, feigning interest in her writing. But she couldn't concentrate, not with Clark standing right behind her after interrupting a private daydream.

 _Especially not one starring him!_ she thought. _Though maybe I can put him to good use?_

"Actually Clark, I'm glad you're here," she said, edging her computer off to the left. "Can you take a look at this? There's something wrong with this article and I can't place it." She heard Clark walk up behind her, his footsteps soft on the Planet's thin carpet. Clark leaned over Lois' shoulder, allowing her to catch his scent. He smelled of sawdust and hay and fresh cut grass, just like a good farm boy should.

"I think I see your problem, Lois," Clark said, pointing at the screen and brushing past Lois' face with his finger, giving her an electric thrill with just how close he came to touching her. "First off, you spelled Lex Luthor's name as 'Lecks Lutor', which I don't think he'd appreciate. Then here you spelled 'Suicide Slum' as 'Suicune Slum.' I didn't know you were a Pokémon fan, Lois."

"Funny, Clark," Lois said, grinning and elbowing him in his guts. Clark backed away before her elbow could hit him, grinning too.

"Hey, you were the one who asked me to proofread," he said, grinning and raising his hands up in defense.

"Never remind a woman of her bad decisions," Lois told him, smirking. "Makes us grumpy. Seriously, Clark, are you in my cubicle for a reason? Or did you just come in here to torment me?"

"I just stopped in to say hi," Clark said, shrugging his shoulders and still grinning. "You know, like a good colleague should. But I guess etiquette is something you city slickers don't know anything about."

"Ooh," Lois said, leaning back in her chair, crossing her legs. "That's a low blow, Clark. I'll have you know I am a _master_ of etiquette."

"Really?" Clark said, grinning just a little wider. "That's not how maitre d' at the Paramount Club remembers it. I think his exact words 'rude, pushy, arrogant. A perfect example of American class. I.e. she has none.'"

Lois uncrossed her legs and spun around to face Clark square on, thrusting her chest outward. She was rewarded with a brief glance downward from Clark. "Now that's two mistakes you've made," she said. "Reminding a girl of her mistakes _and_ somebody else's' critique of her. Keep that up, and I won't date you again."

"Do you even want to?" Clark asked, blinking behind those horn-rimmed glasses of his. "I got the impression the last date was the last date, period. Especially as it didn't go so well. I mean, if you're interested then I am. But I don't want you to feel pressured in any way."

 _Oh, you're dangerous Clark,_ she thought. Smart _and handsome._ "I don't know," Lois said, rubbing her left arm with her right. "You're cute, Smallville, don't get me wrong. But the last boyfriend I had..."

“Hey Lois!” James 'Jimmy' Olsen said as he rounded the corner into Lois' cubicle, interrupting her. "Have you seen... Oh, there you are, Clark. I was looking for you."

Jimmy was a black-skinned young man with fuzzy red hair, a broad nose and brown eyes; narrow shoulders and a narrow waist. He wore a fuzzy green sweater vest, white buttoned-up shirt, brown bow tie and dark slacks. _One of these days, I’m going to talk to his mother about how she dresses the poor kid_ , Lois thought. _Jimmy gets it bad enough as it is, he doesn’t need to look like some nerd from the fifties!_

“Jimmy!” Lois said, breathing a huge sigh of relief at the young man's interruption. She barely knew Clark; he didn't need to know about her previous misadventures. “Clark, have you met Jimmy Olsen yet? He's great, he's the Planet's photographer.”

"I have," Clark said, turning to face Jimmy. "Hi, Jimmy. What did…?"

"Great," Lois said, grabbing her purse from where it hung off her chair and standing up. "You guys can catch up and I'll see you later! Bye!" Lois made to run out of the cubicle, but Jimmy stopped her.

"Lois, w-wait! Perry wanted to talk to you too!" he said, reaching out to grab her. Lois jerked back from the touch and slammed into the file cabinet along her east wall.

"Lois!" Clark shouted and reached toward her. Lois waved him back, winded.

"You okay, Lois?" Jimmy asked as Lois rubbed her shoulder where she'd bounced into the filing cabinet. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you like that, I just..."

"I'm okay Jimmy," she said, interrupting him. "I'm just a little jumpy today, that's all. Too long without a story, I think. Come on, let's go see what Perry wants.

The three of them left Lois' cubicle and headed into the swarming ant hill that was the Daily Planet's city newsroom. Clark offered Lois his hand, but she waved him off.

"One thing you've got to learn about me, Clark, is I'm nobody's damsel," Lois said. "I can handle myself."

"I've never doubted that," Clark responded, staring her straight in the eye. Lois' heartbeat went through the roof. "But I just want you to know if you do need a shoulder to lean on, you can always lean on mine."

"Go on," Lois said, waving Clark off and ducking her head to cover her blush. "I'm right behind you. Jimmy needs to learn a two or thing about women from you, anyway. Don't you Jimmy?"

"Um what?" Jimmy asked as Lois pushed him and Clark out of her cubicle. Clark took the hint, leading Jimmy along while Lois fell behind. In perfect position to ogle Kent's butt.

 _Now there's a sight to behold,_ Lois thought, grinning to herself. The three of them continued pushing their way through the crowd until they reached Perry's office on the south wall and walked in.

"Jimmy, good! You found our wandering minstrels," Perry said, looking up over his half-moon glasses from behind his desk at the trio. Perry was a thickset black man with black hair cut short and into waves; an oval face with a protruding chin, thick lips, a broad nose and deep set brown eyes. He wore a dark green vest over a grey shirt and green tie with black pants and black shoes.

"Wandering minstrels?" Clark asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Minstrels, Clark, were the newsmen and women of their day," Perry said, getting up from his desk and walking around to meet the three people he had called into his office. "They spread lies, gossip and, occasionally, the truth to every castle and town they went. We carry on that noble tradition, though hopefully with fewer lies this time around," he added, stuffing his hands in his pockets and flashing the trio a quick grin.

"Which explains why we're in his office lollygagging instead of out on the streets looking for stories," Lois said, rolling her eyes and tapping her foot. "C'mon Perry, I've got work to do!"

"You, Lois," Perry said, walking away from the trio back to his desk and wagging his finger at Lois, "are on sabbatical. This," he said, picking up a stack of papers that reached from his hand to his elbow and showing it to Jimmy and Clark, "is the printout of the excerpts of all the stories Lois has sent me. If I printed nothing but her stories, I could publish for the next six months and not have to worry about needing fresh content."

Clark whistled. Jimmy turned and gave Lois a high five. "Way to go Lois!" he said.

"It's a hot town," Lois said, returning Jimmy's high five. "And if you'd let me go Perry, I could get even more stories."

"The union thinks I'm working you to the bone as it is," Perry said, setting down the stack of papers and turning back to Lois, folding his arms, grinning.

"The union can bend over and kiss my shiny white behind!" Lois snapped.

"I didn't know the Planet was unionized," Clark said to Perry.

"Yeah," Perry said, scratching his head. "I forgot to mention that when I hired you. Is that a problem?"

"Not for me," Clark said, shaking his head. "It just means I need to fill out some paperwork."

"Whatever," Lois said, placing her hands on her hips. "The point is..."

"The point is you're on sabbatical," Perry said, turning to look at Lois and folding his arms again. "But I'm not cruel Lois. I know what you're like when you don't have a story to chase down. And Lex is unveiling a new product today. The 'Lexo-Skel Suit 5000,' whatever the hell that is."

"It's a mech, like a Gundam," Jimmy interjected, leaning in towards Perry, his eyes wide.

"Right," Perry said, side-eyeing Jimmy. "Anyway, I'm giving the assignment to Clark and Jimmy. You, Lois, are going to shadow Clark and critique his efforts."

"Is that really necessary, chief?" Clark asked.

"No, it isn't," Lois said, putting her foot down.

"Your stuff is good, Clark, but it could be better," Perry pointed out. "And don't call me 'chief.'"

"Sorry, sir," Clark said, ducking his head.

"Don't call me that, either," Perry told him.

"C'mon, Perry! I can cover this story on my own!" Lois said, flinging her left arm out.

"I know you can," Perry said, nodding. "But Clark can't yet. And you, as an elder stateswoman of this fine establishment, are going to help our younger generation along."

"You are going to pay for calling me old, Perry," Lois said, narrowing her eyes at her boss and folding her arms.

"Uh-huh," Perry said, nodding again. "The press conference starts at nine, you have an hour and a half to get there and that car accident on Fleischer still isn't cleaned up yet. I'd get moving if I were you. Have fun kids. And don't let her ditch you Clark!" Perry called out as three left his office.

"Thanks for agreeing to help, Lois," Clark said once they were out of Perry's office.

"Stuff it, Kent. I'm only doing this as a favour to Perry," Lois snapped, tapping her foot on the ground as the trio stopped outside Perry's office door. "Don't get me wrong, I like you well enough. But I don't share the byline and I don't babysit cubs." She stopped tapping her foot as a wicked thought occurred to her. "Okay, here's what we're gonna do. Clark, you said you had some paperwork to fix up, right? So you go do that. It shouldn't take you too long. Jimmy and me will get the car ready and meet you there. Sound good?"

"Sounds good," Clark agreed. He walked off towards his cubicle. Lois watched him for a second, then grabbed Jimmy by the elbow and walked to the west elevators.

"We're ditching Clark, aren't we?" Jimmy asked as he was dragged along.

"Yep," Lois said. "And if you don't hurry up, I'm going to ditch you, too."

 

* * *

 

Clark dropped his duffel bag at the southeast corner of the Lexcorp conference room against a plain grey wall and walked across the tiled mosaic floor to where the other reporters gathered in the centre of the room, notepad and pencil in his hand. At the north end of the room running east to west was a raised stage with a lectern in the middle and a row of chairs behind the lectern. On the east end of the stage stood a 10-foot bulky grey-green humanoid figure with a cannon and magazine for a left hand and a grasping claw for its right. A skylight in the roof let the sun shine down on the milling reporters, heating up the room.

 

 _That must be the Lexo-Skel 5000. It's not as sleek as the designs Stark is coming up with. But given that Stark's on the outs with the government again, he probably won't get the funding he needs to complete his 'Iron Man' suits. So I guess it doesn't matter how bulky Lex's suit is_ , Clark thought.

 

"Clark Kent! How did you get here so fast?" Clark turned to see Lois Lane standing behind him, hands on her hips, legs planted wide and her modest chest thrust outwards. She wore a purple single-breasted jacket that both matched her eyes and highlighted her hourglass figure, over a short white pleated skirt. Black high heels and pantyhose showed off her long smooth legs. A small purple purse hung from her left shoulder. Straight black hair cut to her shoulders framed her round face.

 

"Oh, I just flew," Clark said, running his right hand through his hair. "Hi Jimmy," he added to the awkward young man standing beside Lois, laden with photography equipment.

 

"Hi Clark!" Jimmy Olsen said, waving his hand and almost allowing one of the camera bags to slide off his shoulder. Jimmy caught it in time and pulled the sliding bag back on.

 

"Very funny Kent," Lois said, drawing back up and folding her arms under her chest. "Didn't you have some paperwork to clear with the union, first?"

 

"Yeah, but I figured you were planning to ditch me so I asked Ron Troupe to hand my stuff in," Clark said, shrugging. "Did you know he was the union rep for the city desk?"

 

Lois scowled at him and said: "Yeah, I knew. You got lucky Kent. But let me make one thing clear," she said lunging forward and jabbing a finger under his nose. Clark reared back away from the finger. "I work alone. This is my story, not yours."

 

"That's not what Perry said," Clark countered, drawing himself up to his full height and batting her finger away. "And Perry White is the boss, not you. I don't mind competing with you for the byline, Lois. But I won't be cut out because your fragile ego can't handle working in a team."

 

Jimmy's eyes went so wide Clark thought they were going to cover his entire face. Lois dropped her arm and glared at Clark, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.

 

"That's... fair," she ground out. She turned away from Clark to the lectern and folded her arms across her chest. "I'll give you this, Clark. You've got balls."

 

"How else are you going to get a story in this town?" Clark said, likewise turning to the lectern. "It's not like they fall on you from out of the sky."

 

"That's what I keep telling Jimmy," Lois agreed, gesturing to the young man beside her as he setup his camera. Jimmy jerked his head around at the mention of his name, saw Lois pointing at him, and nodded rapidly. Then he went back to fiddling with his camera. "Have you worked a press conference before?" Lois asked Clark, turning back towards him.

 

"Nope, this is my first one," Clark answered, turning to meet her gaze.

 

"Okay, they're pretty simple," Lois said, readjusting her purse on her shoulder. "Lex will make a grand entrance over on the stage, probably playing Wagner or appearing in a cloud of smoke or something. Then he'll hype whatever gaudy monstrosity he's hawking today and we question him on all his claims. Play hardball with him, Kent. Lex is so slippery, eels are jealous of him."

 

"I got it," Clark said, giving her a quick short nod of his head. Just then, Wagner's _Ride of the Valkyries_ started playing.

 

"Wagner it is," Lois muttered, turning back towards the lectern and folding her arms across her chest.

 

"Smoke, too," Clark noted as a smoke grenade exploded on the stage with a loud bang and a bright flash, filling the stage with smoke. Jimmy's camera whirred as he snapped picture after picture of Lex's magic trick. "You must have a lot of experience with Lex's tricks, Lois," Clark said.

 

"Ah, well, you know," Lois said with a wave of her arm and a light blush on her cheeks. "You work in this town long enough, you see it all. Wait, here comes."

 

Lois was right on the money again. With the smoke clearing, Clark got his good look at Lex Luthor. Lex wore a tailored black suit with a white shirt, tie, and grey vest that showed off his broad shoulders and tapered waist. He had a bald head; a square jaw and sharp cheekbones; thick lips; a Roman nose; deep set grey eyes and brown skin. Beside him was a woman in brown double-breasted jacket, white leggings and brown pixie boots with black gloves and a brown peaked cap. She had broad shoulders, a narrow waist, dirty blonde hair tied up in a bun, an oval face, close set brown eyes and thin lips. Behind the two were a collection of scientists in white lab coats seated on the row of chairs.

 

"Who's the woman beside him?" Clark muttered to Lois.

 

"Mercy Graves," Lois whispered back. "His personal attack dog. Don't cross her, Kent. She's dangerous."

 

Clark nodded and turned back towards the stage. Lex was speaking from the lectern.

 

"Today, I bring you a new age in peace," Lex said, gazing out at the audience. "An age where battles are not fought by vulnerable soldiers in fatigues, but where the battles are ended before they even begin by machines. I give you the Lexo-Skel 5000!" He swept his right arm towards the machine. "With this battle-suit, our sons and daughters never need be vulnerable again. With this suit, every soldier now has the firepower of an entire battalion at their fingerprints. The introduction of the Lexo-Skel will see an end to terrorist attacks against American interests. We will have peace in our time." The reporters all erupted into applause at Lex's announcement. All except Clark, Lois and Jimmy. Jimmy was too busy snapping photos. Lois shifted her weight to one hip and shook her head, smirking. Clark pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes.

"Thank you, thank you," Lex said, gesturing for the crowd to be quiet with his hands. "Now, are there any questions? Yes, you in the back with the blue suit," he said, pointing at Clark who had his hand up.

"Clark Kent, Daily Planet," Clark said, lowering his hand to write in his notepad. From outside, he could hear a faint buzzing sound like a helicopter flying towards them. "You say the Lexo-Skel 5000 has the firepower of an entire battalion. But can it do the same things a battalion can? Can it build bridges? Repair a village? Human beings empathize best with things that have faces. Human faces. The closet thing that suit has is a mirrored visor on its head. How is it going to interact with the people its defending? Can the visor project a human face? I guess what I'm trying to get at here is: can the Lex-Skel 5000 battle suit, when confronted with a child who has had their village bombed, their parents killed in front of them, can it give the child a hug?" The buzzing got louder.

 

Lex jerked back as if it with a taser. The rest of the press corp laughed at Clark. Lois wrapped her right arm around Clark's left and whispered in his ear:

 

"Good job, Smallville. You hit Lex right where it hurt." Clark nodded, but the buzzing had gotten even louder. Even Mercy seemed to notice, for she was staring at the skylight, a frown on her face. Clark turned to the skylight now that he was done interrogating Lex and turned on his X-Ray vision. There, bearing down on the press room, was a Chinook cargo helicopter, flanked by two surplus Hinds.

 

 _If those helicopters are friendly, I'll eat Lois' skirt_ , Clark thought. _I have to protect the people here, but I've got to time this just right. If I warn them too soon, I'll reveal my powers. Too late, and a lot of people will get killed._

 

As Clark pondered this, the buzzing grew louder. Even the other reporters were starting to notice; ignoring Lex's call for further questions, they started talking to each other in hushed tones. Lois scanned the room. Jimmy spun around so his camera was pointing right at the skylight, so he was the first normal person to see the helicopters coming in.

 

"Three choppers coming straight for us!" Jimmy screamed. "One of them just launched a missile!"

 

 _Good enough_ , Clark thought. "Everybody down!" he shouted,  pulling Lois to the floor. Jimmy kept taking photos until Clark pulled him down too.

 

The missile hit with a deafening explosion, causing Clark to scream in pain as his eardrums ruptured. Smoke and debris filled the room, blinding him. Clark stayed on the ground for a good long while, disoriented. Finally the smoke cleared and his eardrums healed from the explosion. Clark picked himself up and dusted himself off, Lois and Jimmy following suit.

 

"What the fuck hit us?" Lois demanded, scanning the room. Clark gave her the once over. Aside from a coating of dust, Lois was unharmed from the attack.

 

"A missile," Clark said, doing likewise and pursing his lips. The reporters were all picking themselves up. Several of them, Clark saw, were carrying cuts and bruises from the explosion. One reporter sat down and sobbed like a baby. Clark's warning must have done some good, though, because no one was dead. A pile of shattered glass and metal lay below the broken skylight. On the stage, Mercy was tending to her boss while the scientists all huddled in a corner. There was something missing on the stage, but Clark couldn't put his finger on it. The acrid smell of smoke and fire filled the room.

 

"I knew that," Lois said, tapping her foot and turning to look at Clark. "Oh Clark, you're bleeding. And I heard you scream when the missile hit. Are you okay?" she asked, her upturned eyes wide.

 

"I'm okay," Clark said reaching up to wipe away the blood coming out of his ear. "I've just never been in a room that was hit by a missile before. It was an experience, to say the least."

 

"You can say that again," Lois agreed, turning back to scan the room. "What about you, Jimmy? Are you okay?"

 

"I'm fine," Jimmy said, checking his camera. "I just hope I got pictures of the explosion! That'll get me on the front page for sure!"

 

"Men," Lois said, tossing an aside glance at Jimmy and smirking. "You guys think you're all so tough. It's okay to admit you were scared guys. Happens to the best of you."

 

"What about you, Lois? How are you holding up?" Clark asked, turning back to his colleague.

 

"Me? I'm fine," Lois said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "The missile never even came close to hitting me."

 

"Right," Clark said, smirking. As he reached down to pick up his notepad, Clark turned back to the stage. And all of a sudden, what was missing from the stage him like a freight train.

 

"Uh-oh," Clark breathed.

 

"What? Was it?" Lois asked, whirling around.

 

"The Lexo-Skel," Clark said.

 

"It's gone."

 

* * *

 

 

After the theft of the Lexo-Skel, Lois called up Lex and demanded an interview while Clark drove Jimmy back to the Daily Planet to develop his pictures. After dropping Jimmy off, Clark met up with Lois at Lexcorp Tower, a 30-story skyscraper located in New Troy. Clark parked his micro car on the street in front of the tower's south entrance, got out and whistled as he looked up at the black rectangular monolith, a giant stylized blue 'L' painted high and in the middle.

"It's impressive all right," Lois said as she got out of her own red coupe beside him.  "A testament to Lex's personality; he likes things big and obnoxious."

"How did you get an interview with him, anyway?" Clark asked as they walked through the automatic double-doors and into the reception desk.

"I have my methods," Lois said as she signed in at the desk. The receptionist gave Lois a small keycard which Lois slipped into her purse. She then pushed the touch pad over to Clark, who signed in with difficulty. "You having fun there, Smallville?" she asked with a smirk, leaning up against the oval desk black marble desktop and folding her arms across her chest.

"I hate these touch pad things," Clark groused as he passed the touch pad back to the receptionist who handed him a similar card to Lois', and then walked away from the desk towards the east elevator bank, slipping the card into his suit pocket. "What ever happened to a good old-fashioned clipboard?"

"It went out with the dinosaurs, Smallville," Lois answered as she followed him, her heels clacking against the black marble floors. "Did you get Jimmy back to the Planet all right?"

"Yep," Clark answered stuffing his hands in his pockets. "He wouldn't quit talking about the pictures he got of the missile hitting the skylight all the way back."

"Crazy kid," Lois muttered, her head low. "By the way, do you know where we're going?"

"No," Clark admitted, stopping to look around the spacious entry hall, supported by ionic columns and lit by flush mounted LED lights that ran in strips on both the ceiling and the floor. "I don't suppose we can just take the elevator?" he asked, turning to Lois.

"Nope," Lois said, shaking her head. "The interview is in Lex's office on the top floor. You need to take a special elevator to get up there. Follow me, Smallville!" Lois took off, heading north across the circular room. Clark followed, enjoying the opportunity to watch Lois' smooth bubble butt bounce along under her short skirt as she walked. They reached the elevator Lois indicated as Lex's private elevator and got in. Lois hit the elevator's touch screen and off the elevator went.

Once the elevator stopped, Clark and Lois walked out into a wide hallway with a pair of heavy automatic black oval doors flanked by a reception desk where Mercy Graves sat working. She'd ditched the cap

"Hi Mercy," Lois said walking up to the other woman, her heels once again going click-clack on the tiled floor. "Is your boss in?"

"Hi Lois," Mercy said, looking up from her computer at both Lois and Clark. She nodded at Clark. "This your new boyfriend?"

"What? No!" Lois said, backing away from Mercy's desk and placing her hand against her chest. "He's a colleague, that's it. Clark, this is Mercy Graves, a woman who likes to jump to conclusions. Mercy, this is Clark Kent, a farm kid from Utah or whatever."

"I'm from Kansas," Clark reminded her as he stretched out his hand to shake Mercy's. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Graves."

"You too, Mr. Kent," Mercy said, shaking his hand, smirking. She hit a button on her console and the automatic doors opened. "Go on in, he's expecting you." Clark and Lois walked into Lex's penthouse office, Mercy following behind them.

Clark whistled in appreciation once he was inside. Lex's office was massive; practically a home onto itself. At the north end of the room sat a massive obsidian oval desk, covered with pictures of Lex receiving awards, Lex's rounded rectangle computer and a model of the Lexo-Skell 5000. Behind the desk lie a giant wraparound window. In the northeast corner sat two black egg-shaped chairs arranged around a smooth black oval coffee table. Along the east wall were two black round doors, each marked private.

Beside Clark, stretching along the entirety of the wall from the southeast corner to the door was a bookshelf. Another bookshelf continued along the remainder of the south wall. Along the west wall were three more doors marked private, including one Clark suspected was an elevator. Dotted along the walls were Greek-style marble statues of things like space shuttles, Lex, the atom, and naked women. Soft lighting came from sources hidden in the ceiling.

 Lex himself sat in a high-backed office chair, watching the three come in, leaning back in the chair with his hands clasped in front of him. He was dressed in a similar suit to the one he wore at the press conference.

"You could get your exercise just by walking from the door to the desk," Clark said, as he did just that. Lois and Mercy followed him, Mercy flanking her boss.

Lex chuckled. "Not quite," he said. "You must be Clark Kent, the reporter who was so concerned about whether my suit could give little children hugs."

"That's me," Clark said, putting his right hand in his pocket and staring Lex down. Lex blinked first, turning to Lois.

"Lois, how good to see you again," he said, reaching out a hand to shake hers. Lois didn't take it, folding her arms across her chest instead.

"The feeling is not mutual, Lex," she told him, causing Lex to withdraw his hand and go back to steepling his fingers.

"So," he said, leaning back further in his chair, "you're here to discuss the theft of my battle suit."

"It cost you what, a billion dollars to make? Plus the damage to your press room," Lois pointed out. "Even for someone with pockets as deep as yours Lex, that's got to hurt."

"My profit margin is going to be a little smaller this month that I anticipated," Lex agreed. "I'm just happy no one was hurt during the attack. The police assure me they are doing everything they can to identify the thieves. Until then, I will just have to wait. And try to explain to my friends in Washington how I lost their newest toy."

"Speaking of Washington, this could be a blessing in disguise for you, couldn't it?" Clark said, stuffing both hands into his pockets now and walking east to flank Lex. Lois mirrored him on the right flank. Mercy drew in closer to her boss as if protecting him from attack.

"Excuse me?" Lex demanded arching an eyebrow, his tone hard and flat.

"Insurance will cover the cost of the suit," Clark pointed out, turning back to face Lex. "And now that the suit is in the hands of a hostile... whatever, Washington is almost certain to beg you to design a newer, better one. Especially since your main competitor in the arms business, Tony Stark, has managed to piss them all off. Again."

Lex glared at Clark for a moment or two then turned to Lois, a hard flat smile on his face. "Lois, it seems your new friend is accusing me of wanting my suit stolen," he said. "If I were you, I would warn him about making unproven allegations. Now if that's all, I have work to do. Mercy will see you out." Mercy came out from behind the desk and ushered the two reporters out the door. Clark shot one last look behind him to see Lex had turned away to face the window. Then the automatic doors shut in front him and Clark lost all sight of Lex.

 

* * *

 

"I'm impressed Clark, that's twice you've gotten under Lex's skin," Lois said as the left the Lexcorp tower, pulling out her keys and unlocking her car. "I haven't seen anybody bug him so much since, well, since me."

"What did you do to him?" Clark asked, turning to look at her. Lois flashed him a quick grin and said:

"Ah, we used to date. And I'm the one who broke it off."

Clark whistled. _That explains the 'last boyfriend' comment_. "Lex doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who takes no for an answer," he said, putting his hands in his pockets.

"He's not that bad," Lois said as she reached her car. "But the months afterward were kind of intense. Anyway, enough ancient history. What makes you think Lex had anything to do with the theft?"

"I could tell you," Clark said, reaching his own car and pressing the thumb unlock button, "but I need some kind of assurance you won't just grab my evidence and run, hogging the byline all to yourself."

Lois turned away from her car and put her hands on her hips, glaring at Clark. "What makes you think I'd do a low down dishonest thing like that?" she demanded.

"You did try to ditch me before the press conference," Clark pointed out.

Lois' expression softened. "Yeah okay, that's true," she admitted. "Okay Clark. You win. You've impressed me enough today that I'm willing, just this once, to share the byline. What's your evidence?"

"It's back at the Daily Planet," Clark said, getting into his micro car. "I'll meet you there!" With that, Clark drove off, weaving his way through the midday Metropolitan traffic until he reached the Daily Planet building with its distinctive ringed glove on top. Lois pulled in right beside him.

"This had better be good, Smallville," Lois said, getting out of her car.

"It is," Clark said, getting out of his. "It's up in my cubicle. Come on, let's go." They walked together through the spacious reception area towards the elevators, Clark clenching and unclenching his right hand with the desire to touch Lois. Lois, for her part, kept rubbing her right arm with her left. They reached the elevators and got in, Clark hitting the button to go up to the newsroom.

The elevator ride was awkward as hell. Clark leaned off to one side to create some distance between him and Lois, who took the other side. Lois pulled out her smart phone and played with it; dropping her head so her shoulder-length black hair covered her face. Clark sighed, then breathed deep to get her scent. She smelled of stale coffee, donuts and printer ink, which to Clark for some reason smelled like heaven.

The elevator stopped and Clark and Lois got out. Lois led the way while Clark followed behind as he had in the Lexcorp tower, mesmerized by the swaying of her ass.

 _Does that make me some kind of pervert?_ He wondered. _If anybody from Smallville knew about my bedroom habits, they'd think I'm a pervert, anyway. It's not like I'm objectifying Lois, right? She's just so beautiful. And I'm just some dumb farm kid._

Lois led Clark past the newsroom's reception area in a big circle around the cluster of short cubicles that occupied the centre of the newsroom and to Clark's cubicle. She stopped right underneath the nameplate pinned to his cubicle on the outside wall, looked up from her phone and said:

"Gentlemen first." She waved her arm, pointing in to the cubicle.

"I thought that was ladies first," Clark said, following the direction of her arm into his cubicle.

"I'm not a lady," Lois replied as she turned to follow him in.

"I think you're a lady," Clark said as he pulled out his chair and sat down.

"You are too dangerous for your own good Kent," Lois muttered under her breath. Clark didn't know what to say about that, so he busied himself with his computer.

 His oval screened computer, standard issue at the Daily Planet, was covered in pink, yellow and blue sticky notes. Two framed pictures of his parents flanked the landline phone on the lefthand side while on the right was a framed picture of himself at graduation and an in-box with only a single sheet of paper in it. A quick glance told him the paper was a fax from the union saying his paperwork was complete. Clark booted up the computer.

"Your cube is much cleaner than mine," Lois said from behind him.

"Lois, there are natural disaster areas cleaner than your cubicle," Clark remarked as he logged into his computer.

"True," Lois admitted. "Sad, but true."

Clark chuckled as he navigated to his pictures folder. "Okay," he said. "Here it is. A little over five years ago, just before Obama became president, Lex met with the Regent of Kaznia." He pointed to the image on his computer screen, of Lex shaking hands on a podium with a dark-skinned Eastern European man in a dark suit with black sunglasses.

"I remember that," Lois said, leaning over Clark's shoulder. Lois' scent filled Clark's nose, making his heart race like the horses at the Kentucky Derby. "Lex was trying to get some big relief shipment going, but Congress shut him down."

"And then voted to embargo all of Kaznia when it fell into civil war months later," Clark added, swallowing hard. "Lex was furious, accusing Congress of cowardice and supporting genocide. Especially after Republicans in Congress declared the war crimes in Kaznia to be legitimate war aims and not genocide at all."

"Yeah, I remember all that," Lois said, nodding her head so that her hair brushed up against Clark's cheek. The sensation hit Clark like a low-powered electric shock, sending a happy thrum through his entire body. "But I'm not seeing the connection. What makes you think the Kaznians were involved in the theft of the Lexo-Skel?"

"Lex never gave up his contacts with the Kaznians," Clark pointed out, jabbing one finger at the screen and leaning away from Lois to create some distance. "Even after sending aid their way was made illegal, Lex still tried. He got caught six months later smuggling grain, blankets and clothes to Kaznia. Lex bought his way out of trouble then and used his trial as a platform to raise awareness about the issue. Plus," Clark added, switching to other photos it the same folder, "he's been seen with other Kaznian representatives over the last year."

"I don't know, Clark," Lois said, shaking her head. "That's awfully thin."

"I know," Clark said, nodding. "But there's a Kaznian yacht with a diplomatic registry on the docks. My theory is, Lex arranged to have the Lexo-Skel suit stolen by the Kaznian government. This way, the Kaznian's get a major leg up on the rebels, Lex's losses are covered by insurance plus the American government will undoubtedly look to Lex for a replacement, putting him ahead in the game. It all fits."

"Except you don't have any hard evidence linking the Kaznian's to the theft," Lois pointed out.

"I know," Clark sighed. He spun his chair around so that he was looking at the bare cubicle wall just past Lois' shoulder. "That's why we need to check out that yacht," he added.

"I was hoping you'd say that," Lois said, her eyes glittering. "Go get Jimmy. Tell him to meet us here at eleven o'clock tonight. And bring his hunting gear. If you're right, Clark, we'll catch them all. And maybe put an end to the slaughter in Kaznia."

 

* * *

 

At eleven o'clock that evening, Clark Lois and Jimmy all sat around the conference room table in the Daily Planet's conference room, an assortment of tools laid out on the table before them. A single troffer light illuminated the dirty white walls and bare carpet.

"We've done this before Clark," Jimmy assured the well-built farm boy who stood away from the table, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up, giving Lois a drool-inducing glimpse of his thick arms. "Lois and me, I mean. It'll be fine, you'll see." Like Clark, Jimmy was standing beside the table, though unlike Clark he had his hands deep in the tools piled on the table.

 _I wonder what those arms would feel like wrapped around me?_ Lois wondered from her swivel chair beside the two males, legs crossed, one foot tapping idly.

"Look, see," Jimmy said, pulling out a listening device from the pile to show to Clark. "This earpiece goes in Lois' ear, right? You know, because it's an earpiece? And we listen in. If it cuts out or anything, we'll know about it and can come rescue her. Not that Lois usually. You know. Needs rescuing or anything," Jimmy added, throwing a bashful glance at Lois, who waved him off.

"I still don't like it," Clark said, glancing down at the tools piled on the table. "It's too dangerous, Lois. These guys are killers, professionals. They'll kill you and throw you overboard without a second thought. I should be the one to go."

"Not that your caveman attitude isn't without its charms, Clark, but I can handle myself," Lois said, uncrossing her legs and leaning in towards the table. "Jimmy's right, we've done this before. There was that time with Intergang, and that other time with the Latverians..."

"You're not making me feel better," Clark ground out.

Lois shrugged. "I'm not here to make you feel better," she pointed out. "I'm here to get a story, same as you. Sometimes that means putting our necks on the line. Besides, I'm the best person for this job. These mercenary types are less likely to be threatened by a woman, and out of the three of us I'm the only one with any name recognition. They're more likely to not shoot Lois Lane, star reporter of the Daily Planet, then they are two random guys they've never heard of before. Plus I've got a lot of experience with this sort of thing."

"I guess," Clark said, unfolding his arms and placing his left on his hip while using his right to support him as he leaned over the conference table. "I just worry about you, that's all."

"You're sweet Clark," Lois assured him. She couldn't resist the temptation anymore; she reached out and touched his hand on the table. It wasn't at all like she thought it'd be, rough and calloused. No, Clark's hand felt smooth, almost dainty. _Definitely something I need to explore more,_ Lois thought. Out loud, Lois said:

"You're sweet, and I do appreciate your concern. But I'm a big girl who can handle herself, okay? You just need to trust me."

Clark cupped her hand in his and locked his bright blue eyes on to hers, sending an electric thrill through Lois. "I do trust you Lois," he told her. "You're right, you are the best person for this job. But Jimmy and I will be at the docks, within easy reach if you need help. What's the signal for help?" he asked her.

"Rubies," Lois said, unable to tear her eyes away from Clark's. "Rubies is the one Jimmy and I use."

"Okay," Clark said, slipping his hands away from hers. Was she imagining things, or did Clark seem as reluctant as she was to let go. "What's the rest of the plan, guys?"

"It's pretty simple," Lois said, working saliva into her desert dry mouth. "I sneak aboard the ship and find any evidence they stashed the Lexo-Skel there or where otherwise involved in the theft. Then I get the hell out of there. If I give the codeword for trouble or you don't hear from me in two hours, you come get my butt of the fire. Two hours, Clark, remember that. Too late and my goose is cooked. Too early, same thing."

"Got it," Clark said, nodding.

"Will you be taking your pistol?" Jimmy said, pointing to the chunk of blued steel resting on the tabletop.

"No," Lois said, shaking her head. "My best bet is to talk my in and out of the yacht. If I come in with a gun, they're that much more likely to shoot me."

"Makes sense," Clark agreed. "Do you mind if I borrow it, then? If we need to rescue you, we might need some firepower. And Jimmy isn't licensed," he added, pointing at the gun.

"Go right ahead," Lois said. "The gun case is right beside it," she added, pointing at the case.

"Okay, I think that's it," Lois said, getting up out of the chair. "Come on Jimmy. Get me suited up and let's blow this popsicle stand." Lois stood up and took off her jacket, revealing a white blouse underneath. Jimmy handed her the earpiece and plugged a wire into it. Lois fitted the earpiece into her ear while Jimmy stretched the wire behind her back and down to her hip, then plugged the wire into a box microphone. Jimmy then handed the microphone to Lois who snapped it onto her belt. Then Lois put her jacket back on.

"How do I look?" she asked, whirling around to give Clark a good view.

"They'll probably see the wire if they catch you," Clark said, folding his arms. "Best to stay out of sight."

"I'll do my best," Lois assured him. Clark didn't seem convinced, but there was nothing Lois could about that. "Come on boys," Lois said. "Let's go fight for truth, justice and the American way." Jimmy and Clark followed her out of the conference room and into the darkened newsroom, into the elevators and down to where their cars were parked.

"Jimmy and I will take my car and follow behind you, Lois," Clark said, hands in his pockets as Jimmy loaded the rest of their gear into the micro car's trunk. "We'll park a fair way off once we get to the docks so they don't see us following you, okay?"

"Sounds good," Lois said. She fidgeted with her keys then said: "Hey Clark, can you come here a minute?"

"Sure," Clark said, ambling over to her. Lois turned away from her car and kissed him, hard, on the lips.

"Just, you know, for luck," Lois said, turning back to her car with a bright red blush and a slow smile spreading across her face.

"Thanks. Although it's you who's going to need the luck tonight," Clark pointed out.

"Maybe you're my good luck charm, Kent. Ever think of that?" Lois said grinning as she got into her car and drove off. A few seconds later, Lois looked in her rearview window and saw Clark and Jimmy start up Clark's micro car and follow behind her.

 _We need to get Clark a better car,_ Lois though as she drove along. _A better car for Clark and a better fashion sense for Jimmy. Who says I don't think of other people?_

 

* * *

 

 

Lois drove into the Metropolis International Seaport and parked her car in the Ace O'Clubs parking space. She got out, checked her purse and wire, and walked the remaining feet to where the Kaznian diplomatic yacht was docked.

 _Bibbo's an old friend_ , she thought. _I've left my car at his bar many times when I've gone looking for a story. Or had a little too much to drink the night before. It'll be all right there. I just wish I wasn't so nervous. Come on, Lois! You've walked into the lion's den every day of your life since you were eight years old! Tonight isn't any different just because Clark's all worried._

Lois stuck to the shadows as she walked, avoiding the bright street lamps that illuminated the main walkways of the port. Once she got to the Kaznian yacht, Lois stood flat against the wall of a nearby warehouse, studying the yacht's entrance way.

 _That's lucky,_ she thought. _There are no lights over the yacht's entrance. That'll let me sneak in without anybody noticing. Unless they've got automatic lights, in which case I'm screwed. Of course, there's a way to test that._ Lois reached down into her purse and pulled out a rock which she tossed onto the yacht's gangway. No lights came on, so Lois rushed forward onto the gangway and picked up the rock, putting it back in her purse. Then she charged up the plank and onto the yacht, swinging her legs over the side and dropping down without a sound.

 _This place is huge,_ Lois though as she crouched behind the ship's wall she'd just swung over. _It's got to be, what? 130 feet at least. About as big as Lex's. Okay, so if it's anything like Lex's, then cargo's on the lower deck forward. Staterooms and all that are here, on the main deck. The captain's cabin is on the upper deck. Where to go first? Cargo, I guess. If the Lexo-Skel suit isn't there, that's a big strike against Clark's theory._

Lois made her way forward, looking for ways to get down to the lower deck. _This ship's seen better days,_ she thought. _The wood interior's are all scratched, the carpet's starting to pull away from the walls and I can hear the rats scurrying down here. Guess I shouldn't be surprised, with the toll the civil war must be taking on Kaznia. Guess that explains why there are no automatic lights, too. They can't afford them!_

Twice, Lois was almost caught by armed sailors patrolling the ship, but she was able to slip past them, once by throwing a soup can away from her causing the sailor to go investigate the noise. Lois then slipped into the lower deck, which was pitch black.

 _That figures,_ Lois thought. _I knew my luck would run out, eventually. Okay, Lois. You can do this. You were as far as you could go forward on the main deck, so if you kept going the same way you should find the crew quarters and cargo. Then you just have to slip past the sleeping sailors, check the cargo for a giant war machine and sneak back out again. No problem, you've been doing this all your life!_

Lois found the entrance into the crew quarters and nudged open the door. It was heavy and squeaked with rust, making Lois wince at the noise the door was creating. But it opened and nobody reached out from the darkness to grab her, so Lois kept going. She snuck into the crew quarters and made her way forward, the sound of her heels on the carpeted floor uncomfortably loud in her ears. She stayed low as she moved forward, careful to avoid all the portholes along her way in case some sailor decided to look out and spotted her.

Finally she reached the cargo area. Breathing a sigh of relief, Lois checked all the boxes stored there. Besides the usual fare of food, clothes, and fuel, she found some other things. Some other very interesting things, like rocket launchers in crates marked 'Goat cheese.' Or select-fire rifles in crates marked 'Ladies Undergarments.'

 _Okay, that one's Lex,_ Lois thought, smiling to herself. _He always did have a twisted sense of humour. But this doesn't_ prove _anything except the Kaznian's are using their diplomats to smuggle weapons. Which could only surprise a blind tortoise. Come on, Lois. Let's see if there's anything else here._

There was. In addition to the rocket launchers and select-fire rifles, Lois found pistols in another crate marked 'Kaznian Tribal Artifacts' and several cases of grenades marked 'Bolivian Cocktails'.

 _Dropping food on Kaznia, Lex?_ Lois thought as she continued searching the cargo room. So far there was no evidence of Lex's battle-suit being here, but Lois took pictures with her cellphone camera of all the illegal weapons. _It doesn't matter if I agree with Lex or not,_ she thought as she snapped the pictures, _and in this case I_ do _agree with the old bald-headed pain in the ass!  The Republicans are cowards who support genocide because it lines their pocket books. But Lex doesn't get to decide what to do about Kaznia on his own. Only the people do. And the people deserve to know if Lex is smuggling weapons or not. Still, I don't see any that could hide a huge ass war machine._

But there! In the corner was a box that stretched from the floor to the ceiling marked 'Dummy'.

 _If that isn't it, at least this trip won't have been a total waste,_ Lois thought. _Clark will be disappointed, thought._ Lois felt up the rough wooden box. It had been sealed tight with long nails, and there was no way Lois was going to be able to pry it open with her bare hands. Instead she looked around for a crowbar. Before she could find one, however, the lights came on in the cargo room.

Lois whirled around to see a heavily armed group in dingy yellow jumpsuits surrounding her. Their leader, a man with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, a rectangular face with a prominent chin, short blond hair, thick lips and grey wide set eyes leered at her."

"I thought I heard a rat scurrying around out here," he said, in a cultured accent Lois couldn't place. "Though I didn't expect the rat to be so lovely."

"Yeah, hi. Lois Lane, Daily Planet reporter," Lois said, digging her notepad and pen out of her purse. "I'm doing a story on ruby smuggling and checking out the ships in the area. If you tell me what you know, I can get your name in the papers. Or make sure your name never hits the papers, if that's what you want."

The leader cupped his chin in his hands. "What sort of smuggling did you say you were investigating?"

Lois swallowed hard. "Rubies," she said, her palms sweating.

" _Red_ rubies?" the leader said, arching an eyebrow and smirking behind his hand.

"Is there any other kind?" Lois shot back, her mind racing. _He knows_ , she thought. _He knows, and I just got Clark and Jimmy killed. Oh god, oh god forgive me!_

"Hundreds, but most of them go by other names," the leader said. He turned towards one of his crew and said to her: "Go. Miss Lane has back up and suspect they will be mounting a rescue shortly. Drive them off without killing them if you can; if not, I understand. The rest of you, get the ship ready. We should have been in international waters hours ago, anyway." He turned back towards Lois and said:

"Oh, but where are my manners? My name is John Corben, I'm sure you've heard of me Miss Lane."

"A little bit," Lois admitted, swallowing hard. John Corben was a feared international terrorist, mercenary and assassin, equal only to Erik Killmonger and the Wild Pack.

"I apologize for the inconvenience Miss Lane, but I'm afraid I can't let you go just yet," Corben said with a wave of his hand as he turned away from her. "Don't worry, once we're international waters and there's nothing you can do to stop us, we'll let you go."

"Alive?" Lois said, dropping into a fighting stance.

"That's the question, isn't it?" Corben said over his shoulder. To his crew he added:

"Grab her!"

 

* * *

 

"... I'm doing a story on ruby smuggling and checking out the ships in the area," Lois' voice came in clear over the receiver.

"I think Lois is in trouble," Jimmy said from the passenger side of Clark's micro car.

"She is," Clark said, getting out of the driver's seat. He pointed at Jimmy. "You stay here Jimmy and call the police. I'm going to go rescue Lois."

"Right," Jimmy said. "Hey Clark, you forgot the gun!" Jimmy called out as Clark ran down from where he and Jimmy had parked at the seaport towards the docks.

 _I can't tell Jimmy I don't need a gun,_ Clark thought as he ripped open his shirt to reveal the Superman costume underneath. _I'll have to think of something when I get back!_ Fortunately, Clark had remembered his duffel back, which bounced against his back. Clark threw his work clothes into the bag then pulled out his cape, boots, belt and gloves. Using his super-speed he slipped into the rest of his costume and put his clothes back into the duffel bag and threw the bag over on to a nearby roof. Then he took off, flying towards the Kaznian yacht.

Once there, he hovered over the yacht, using his X-Ray vision to scan for Lois. He found her, along with half a dozen gun-toting sailors trying to grab her. Lois was holding her own, ditching her heels and driving off her attackers with a combination of punches, kicks, and well-timed purse swings. But it was only a matter of time before the sailors overwhelmed her, so Clark decided to step in.

Angling into a dive, Clark smashed through the forward section of the ship, pulling himself up sharply to kill his momentum once he reached the lower deck. He stood on the deck floor, framed by the starlight, staring at the stunned crowd.

"Superman!" Lois breathed, having gotten her wits back first.

"Hi Miss Lane," Clark said, using the deeper voice he affected when in costume. "You keep strange company, Miss," he added, indicating the assembled sailors.

"Tell me about," Lois said, waving her arm at the sailors. "Superman, this is John Corben. John, this is Superman. And his comment about strange company applies to him just as much as it does you, so don't feel too bad."

"Superman, hm? Here I thought you were just a myth, something someone cooked up after a long trip to Andromeda," Corben said.

"I'm as real as you are, John," Clark said, folding his arms against his chest. "Now are we going to do this the hard way or the easy way?"

"Hmm," Corben said, scratching his chin. "I'm afraid we're going to have to opt for the hard. It's nothing personal, you understand. But I do have some deliveries to make."

"I can't let you make those deliveries, Corben," Clark said, unfolding his arms and striding across the room towards Corben and his armed crew. "They will only make a bad situation worse."

"True of every action we take, my handsome friend," Corben said spreading his arms in a 'what can you do' gesture. Then he dropped his arms to point at Clark. "Get him!" he commanded.

The sailors came at Clark in a swarm, all half-dozen of them including Corben. The first one Clark caught by his lapels and threw into a crate of weapons. Another managed to hit Clark with a crowbar which bent the crowbar double. The sailor looked at his weapon, stunned, until a slap from Clark knocked him unconscious.

Two others rushed Clark and grabbed a hold of his arms. Clark knocked them together, causing the sailors to slump to the ground.

"Corben! Get the suit!" the last remaining sailor screamed as she advanced on Superman. Corben nodded and ran off towards the tallest box in the room, dodging a swinging purse from Lois Lane.

"You take care of that last guy! I got Corben!" Lois said, advancing on Corben, swinging her bag like a flail.

"Your girl is brave," the sailor said, lunging at Superman with a knife.

"You're no coward yourself," Clark responded, letting the knife stab him. It punctured the suit, but shattered like a porcelain doll on his invulnerable chest. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"The rebels are dragging my people out of their homes and shooting them in cold blood," the sailor said, taking a disgusted look at her ruined knife and tossing it aside. "I'd do anything to stop that!"

"I was afraid you'd say that," Clark sighed and cuffed the sailor upside the head. She dropped to the ground like a stone. Then the crate with the Lexo-Skul suit crashed open and out came the suit, it's visor lit up.

"Superman!" Lois called out. "I'm sorry, I couldn't stop him! He must have had a remote control!"

"Lois! Get away from the suit!" Clark shouted back.

"Good advice!" Corben said, clambering into the suit. Once there, he fired a single shot from the canon into the smuggled munitions, causing an explosion that spread fire everywhere. "I will see you later, Superman! No hard feelings, of course!" Corben called out, then flew away in the suit.

 _Lex, I think your suit may have too many tricks up its sleeve,_ Clark thought, still reeling from the explosion which had knocked him back against the ship. Blood seeped out of his ears again. Drawing in a mighty breath, Clark blew out the flames, but the damage was already done. A hole in the yacht's hull was pumping water into the ship. If Clark didn't hurry, everyone aboard the ship would die.

Moving at a respectable fraction of the speed of sound, Clark gathered up the five sailors and Lois, then flew out of the ship. He landed on the docks, depositing his cargo carefully.

"Thanks, I don't know what I would have done without you," Lois said, dusting herself off.

"Trust trying to help, Miss Lane," Clark said. He made to fly after Corben and the Lexo-Skel, but Lois stopped him by grabbing his cape. Clark turned back towards her to stare in those perfect purple upturned eyes. She smiled and kissed him again, sending an electric shock through Clark.

"Go give him one for me, Smallville," she whispered into his ear and let Clark go. Clark flew off, nettled by Lois' suspicions. He scanned the area for Corben, and found him more than a mile away to the north. It required next to know effort on Clark's part to catch up to the mercenary. Once he did, Clark grabbed on to the Lexo-Skel's boots and pulled just hard enough to kill Corben's momentum. Corben responded by twisting the suit so the canon was aimed at Clark's face and fired. The explosion forced Clark backwards off the suit, but Clark kept coming. His ears bled and smoke from the explosion filled his nose and eyes, but still Clark kept coming. When Corben tried to swat Clark out of the air with the canon, Clark grabbed ahold of the canon and ripped it off, tossing it down on to the streets below. Cars swerved out of the way of the oncoming missile which landed hard in the asphalt and sent chips of broken road flying everywhere. People screamed and fled the scene, leaving the next mile and a half of road empty.

 

Corben next came after Clark with the grappling claw, but he had no more success with it than he did the canon. Clark punched the claw, shattering the arm and rendering useless. Then Clark grabbed the suit with both hands and drove Corben into the road for a dozen yards. Clark then ripped open the suits chest to reveal a whimpering John Corben.

"How about we go a couple of rounds without the suit?" Clark asked Corben.

"How about not?" Corben asked. "I think I'd rather surrender."

"Good idea," Clark told him.

 

* * *

 

Lex Luthor sat behind his desk in his penthouse office, elbows on the desk, head between his hands as the representative from Kaznia told him what happened.

"So you see, because the merchandise was never delivered, we do not think it's fair to pay," the dark-skinned man in his dark suit told Lex.

"The arrangement was your men would be allowed to pick up the items in question and leave," Lex reminded him. "Which they did. With aplomb, I might add. Any difficulties they had getting the merchandise to you is between you and them. It has nothing to do with me."

"That may be true," the Kaznian diplomat said, shrugging. "That said, what remains of my government has informed me they will not be authorizing the wire transfer. I'm sorry Lex. We just can't afford to spend that kind of money for an item we didn't receive."

"You want me to eat a billion dollars?" Lex demanded smashing his fist on the desktop.

"My government has lost much more," the Kaznian diplomat reminded him sharply. "Not only did we lose your battle-suit, but we lost our last diplomatic yacht, hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of arms as well. My government cannot sustain such losses. _You_ can."

Lex glared at him, but then relented. "All right, you're right," he admitted, sighing. "How about this? You pay the money promised me, and I get you double what you lost tonight."

"You can get another suit that quickly?" the Kaznian asked, blinking in surprise.

"Of course not," Lex told him. "But I can get you conventional armaments. Blankets. Building supplies to rebuild towns and bridges. Food. Think what two billion dollars worth of food and clothing could get you."

"With that kind of support, we could buy our way out of the war," the Kaznian said, rubbing his chin. "All right, Lex. I will talk to my superiors. Besides, I think you have another guest, one who can't wait," he added, pointing behind Lex to his window. Lex turned to see Superman hovering there, just outside. His face was covered in ash and blood. Lex pressed a button on his desk and the window opened.

"Come on in, I've been expecting you," Lex said, leaning back in his chair. "I understand you defeated my Lexo-Skel. Congratulations, I did not think it was possible. You are in elite company, Superman. Not many people prove me wrong."

"Your suit isn't a toy, Lex," Superman warned. "It's a dangerous tool of war."

"It's not meant to cart the kids around to soccer practice," Lex agreed, turning back around. "I want to show you something." Without bothering to check if Superman had floated in or not, Lex hit another button and a projector popped out, displaying horrific images of death camps, slave labour, bombed out villages and dead children.

"This is Kaznia," Lex told Superman. "Five years ago, a group of fascists stormed the government palace, killing most of the royal family and declared their leader, one Adolphus Albinus declared himself the new leader of Kaznia. It was his destiny to return Kaznia to its white, Christian roots..."

"I thought Kaznia was first started as a peace project between Christian, Jewish and Muslim Serbs, Slavs and Croats after the First World War? A place where they could all live in peace and harmony?" Superman asked.

"No, Kaznia's origins are much older, but the Austro-Hungarian Empire absorbed them, drove out the royal family and ended the Kaznian's legacy of equality and civic citizenship," Lex informed him, glancing backwards to see Superman was still hovering outside his window. Lex turned back to the projected images. "After the First World War, the Kaznia royal family returned and set out to rebuild their country's legacy. For over ninety years they were successful, using their mountainous homeland to trap and destroy the Nazi's and the Soviet's alike. But a little thing like 'reality' has never mattered much to fascists, and the collapse of neo-liberal economics five years ago gave them a platform. Now, you can see what they've done with that platform."

"It's horrific," Superman agreed. "But I don't think lending a war machine to the Kaznian loyalists is going to make the country better."

"Perhaps not," Lex said. "Of course, we'll never know, will we?" he added, glancing back at Superman and hiding his smirk at seeing the other's face. _This is the delicate part,_ Lex thought. _I have Superman right where I want him, but if I lay it on too thick, he'll suspect a con._ Lex sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Any port in the storm, right Superman? Cut off from any help by the world's police man, watching your people get killed in front of you every day for five years... even a nuke would look good at that point, I suppose. But I'm just speculating. I've never experienced anything like that. What about you, Superman?" Lex leaned back in his chair to glance at Superman. "Where did you come from? Did you witness your people's destruction?" The slight, almost imperceptible nod was all Lex needed. He turned back to face the pictures, hiding the ghost of a smile with his fingers.

"Can I have a copy of those pictures?" Superman asked, pointing at the projected images in question. "I have some.. friends who might be able to use them. To shed light on what the Kaznian's are going through."

"Certainly," Lex said, reaching over to another button his console and popping out a USB which he handed to Superman. Superman stared at the USB stick for a second or two then said:

"I'll be watching you, Luthor. I don't trust you. And I don't believe you have the Kaznian's best interests at heart. So I'll be watching." With that, Superman turned and flew away.

"The feeling is mutual, my friend," Lex murmured.

All things considered, it had been a good day.

END CHAPTER

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this fic may be cursed. The plan was for a mere eight thousand word chapter; instead I ended up with thirteen thousand. Yay me?
> 
> Anyway, here's our first introduction to Jimmy Olsen and the first time Lex is a major player in the chapter. He's going to bedevil Clark endlessly over the next while, constantly breaking the law but never, quite, doing anything wrong. Good old Lex, you're such a bastard.
> 
> ***
> 
> Superman created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster.
> 
> ***  
> If you enjoyed this chapter, please support me on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/joshstoodley) or by my original fiction on Amazon.
> 
> Robots and Vampires (https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00NDLMDT4): Two hundred years in the future, a young cyborg stops the richest boy in town from killing a gynoid. Now he must flee from the only home he’s ever known to Fort City, base of the mysterious Standard Technologies, Inc. Can he trust them?
> 
> The Standard Tech Case Files-The Black Coats (https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00VTWMR7W): When there’s a corpse on the street, somebody has to answer for that. When the body in question is the squire of a prominent vampire, the call for blood only gets louder. Follow Joey Bianco and his squire Jen Ryan as they hunt down a killer and try to keep the peace between vampires and humans.
> 
> The Standard Tech Case Files-The Dead and The Damned (https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01MRSBC7I): Tensions between humanity and vampires are heating up. A vampire store has been ransacked. Protestors are being arrested without trial. Can Joey Bianco and Jen Ryan find a peaceful solution? Or will the streets of Fort City run red with blood?


End file.
